


Regarding Scar

by Kree Gangaas (Chirs_Boyce)



Category: The Lion King (1994)
Genre: Conflict, F/M, Introspection, POV Female Character, POV Multiple, Power Dynamics, Romance, Slow Build, Slow To Update, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chirs_Boyce/pseuds/Kree%20Gangaas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the anniversary of his accession to the throne, Scar falls into the gorge. For everyone on the Pridelands, especially Sarabi, life can never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> An ongoing, but slowly updated, work in progress.
> 
> If you like this, or loathe it, please let me know. I often struggle to find motivation to complete this, probably my last Lion King story. I write for myself, but while once every chapter was a labour of love, now its just a labour. I write in the hope that readers will find it interesting and thought-provoking, but I also know that this is my sort of story, and that it appeals to relatively few. If you are one of those few, then... well, I hope someone is.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the deepest drought in living memory, Scar takes the lionesses to the gorge to commemorate the anniversary of his accession to the throne. Can the cracked, crumbling, dry edge of the gorge take his weight?

**_The Anniversary_ **

Two lionesses looked at each other in bewilderment. One, shaking her head, moved carefully forward, checking the ground with a forepaw. Where Scar had stood, two lengths of the cliff edge had disappeared. The lioness lay down to spread her weight. She inched forward to the clean-broken edge from which a trickle of earth fell. She held still; it stopped. Looking down where only seconds ago there had been solid ground, at first she saw nothing.

"Well, can you see him?"

Trying to control her breath, her throat drying with the dust, she replied, "No." Then, swathed in dust, far below beyond a desiccated tree now torn apart, a ridge emerged. "Wait…" Laying on it, deathly still, was the unmistakable form of Scar. "I see him."

"Come away. Leave him there…"

Sarabi needed sleep. She always needed sleep. As each long day passed, each night came too late and went too soon. Yet each day brought more work and more pain. Soon she would have to wake again; well before her night was done; drag herself out of rest to hunt, to feed not just her pride but the hyena legion too.

Even when sleep finally caught hold of her she was not free to rest: the past clung about her, filling her with dread and pain; of loss and pain. She had had so much: a loving mate, an only son, a mother and a sister she lived to complain about. Her mother's loss, at the hunt, had struck Sarabi hard. She had lost everything. Her mate was dead; her son lost, and now her mother. All those close to Sarabi had left her; all except Sarafina, lying already asleep by her side, though Sarabi feared even her once indomitable spirit was now close to breaking.

Yet Sarabi would always wake before being woken, if indeed she had slept at all. Soon one of the hyenas would come, slap, claw and insult her to her paws and escort her away to hunt again. If they would only leave her to her sleep, leave her to grieve, to remember.

It was already light when she awoke. She was afraid. Cloud shielded the sun, but promised little rain. Sarabi had overslept: the hyenas would never forgive that. She had barely opened an eye when her hazy ears caught a male lion's voice: "No, no, no. Let them be this morning."

A female hyena answered sharply, "Scar? Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh yes. I mean, look at them: poor things; far too tired to hunt."

"So who's going to get us breakfast?"

"Hmm, let me think…. Ah yes, now I know this is a stretch even for your tiny minds, but how about you hunting for yourselves for a change? It's such a lovely morning don't you think?"

"You want us to hunt? US? Why should we hunt? They're so good at it!"

"In that case, you could do with the practice."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Oh yes. And there's just one more little thing. It's nothing."

"I know you and your little things Scar."

"No really, it's nothing. Just bring Nala back here with you."

"Nala? I thought you said you never wanted to see her back here 'while your mane was black'!"

"Yes, Nala. Now go on; run along now." Shenzi tipped her head toward Sarabi, narrowing her eyes. Sarabi closed her eyes and laid her head on Sarafina's neck, stretching forward to lick. "Oh, don't worry about them. They'll be just fine with me. We've got a big day ahead of us. It is such a lovely day, isn't it? Did I already mention that?"

The hyena breathed heavily, threatening to break into a growl.

"Off you Shenzi. Just remember: you still won't get anything without me."

Closing her eyes, Sarabi heard Shenzi scuttle off muttering to herself.

It was well into mid-morning before Sarabi woke again. Sarafina was gone. Sarabi looked around, lifted her head, yawned and stretched her foreclaws out and relaxed them back. She half-heartedly scratched at her side with a hindpaw: two lax swipes finding none of her itches. She snatched herself to her feet; her legs, unaccustomed to being straight, wavered, but held.

"Hey! Take it easy!" The lioness slipped into view ahead of Sarabi. "What's the hurry?"

"Nala, what are you doing here? We've got to go hunting. We're very late already. We've got to go."

"No we haven't." Sarabi shook her head. "Don't worry Sarabi; Malala's led the others out, she'll do fine. We're not going anywhere."

"Well now Nala, that's not strictly true is it my dear?" Scar, it had to be Scar. "Go on then. Tell Sarabi. You know you want to."

"No Scar. I don't want to. You tell her yourself."

Sarabi dropped her chin on to her foreleg. "What is it Scar? What's going on?"

"No, no, I'm not going to ruin the surprise. You'll both just have to wait until Sarafina gets back. Then we can all be one big, happy family."

Nala and Sarafina weren't family. Had Simba grown up to love Nala then perhaps? Sarafina and Nala were more than family: they were friends. Sarabi could choose her friends. She had never chosen Scar. He was just her mate's, Mufasa's, brother. Scar had brazenly taken advantage of Mufasa's sudden, tragic, painful dea… She struggled to think the word. Was he? Was he really… dead? Scar had usurped his own brother and appeared insensible to his young nephew's disappearance. Simba could not be dead. He could not be. He lived, somewhere, surely?

After taking the kingdom, Scar had brought in the hyenas to pillage the Pridelands; to suck the land dry and gnaw on its bones, and Sarabi and all the other lionesses had to get it all for them. Once she had not understood how Mufasa could fear the hyenas, yet now, and for over a year, she saw it clearly. Her hate for them grew with every morning, when, snatched from sleep, they dragged her out to hunt for them. FOR THEM!

Sarabi composed herself, choking down her feelings. "Well Scar? What's this all about?"

"Sarabi, Sarabi, don't be so impatient. You know it doesn't suit you. Why should I care if you don't want to go for a little walk to the gorge on such a lovely day as this? Oops, I've said too much! Oh please tell me you've forgotten it already, please?"

"But the gorge Scar! Do you know what day it is and how much this means to Sarabi?"

"Why yes Nala, I do believe I do. Now who's the king?"

Nala half turned her head away, replying meekly, "You are."

"Oh yes, so I am!" Scar's tone sharpened. "Now don't you forget it… again!"

Sarabi pressed herself to Nala's side. It had been several weeks since the two had been together. Nala had not been near Pride Rock since Scar had sent her away for rejecting his advances. She had used the time away from the rest of the pride well; testing and honing her hunting and stalking. She was now a young lioness who could more than look after herself.

Scar turned away and walked back to the cavern. Nala and Sarabi lay down in silence on the rock promontory. From the cave they heard Scar complaining in muffled, unintelligible echoes to Zazu.

Soon Sarafina bounded up to them, her normally bright eyes dimming. "Sarabi? Are you – Nala, what are you doing here?" Sarabi raised a forepaw to her lips and turned her ears to the cave. Nala rolled her eyes. Sarafina nodded slowly. "Oh… I see."

Why? Why go there? That's where it happened; both gone and everyone else after them. Is this the day Scar will finally tell all that happened? Is he finally about to tell the truth?

The three lionesses were now far from Pride Rock. The ground was near barren and deeply cracked. When it happened it had been fertile, flushed with green. Herds thousands strong grazed there, now it was as dead, dry and empty as Sarabi's heart.

"Why are you dragging us out here? This had better be good!"

"Good? Good's such a little word, don't you think? Why, it's better than good. This, my dear Nala, is truly magnificent. Just look… such a wonderful sight isn't it?"

The overcast slid past, they stepped down from a low ridge. To the right the gorge cut through the bronzed sward, slitting the land clear to the low northern hills. The widest chasm, rock pinnacled and tinder-dust floored, stretched out before them. On any other day it's striated sandstone, its scattered acacias, its sheer presence, witness to countless ages, would have indeed been magnificent. Yet not this day, not this place, not this company.

Sarabi shivered, halting, hanging back, head low, not looking. Sarafina whispered to her. "Come on Sassi, it's not far now. Don't give him the satisfaction."

The cloud scurried over once more, bringing a slight chilling of the air. Sarabi looked up, still holding back.

Scar walked on ahead. "Oh do come along," he chivvied. "You really don't want to miss this. Honestly, you'll thank me. You will; I promise."

Sarafina rolled her eyes and whispered to Sarabi, "See? He's enjoying this. It'd be such a shame not to ruin his 'big day'."

"Why did he have to bring us here? Here of all places? Why Sarafina? Why?"

"You know how he likes to big it up. Come on, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back home."

Sarabi closed her eyes. On opening them, she brought herself to look ahead, head just above her shoulders. She had been here before, to see the place where Mufasa had… the place where Simba was last seen. She inhaled, held for a moment, and then nodded slowly, moving forward.

"That's the way. That's my Sassi."

Scar stopped a few lengths short of the gorge edge and turned. Nala, Sarafina and finally Sarabi came up to him and stood facing him. There was little sound, other than a faint wisp of a breeze that ruffled Scar's mane from behind. The expanse of the gorge, here almost at its deepest and widest, spread out behind him. On the far side, all too clearly visible, was the steep slope where Sarabi now saw the herd, several thousand wildebeest strong, surging down to the gorge floor. Under that unstoppable wave, Mufasa and Simba fell.

"Ah, here we are. Wonderful, isn't it?"

"What? Can't you see Sarabi's hurting? What do you mean by dragging us all the way out here?"

"Nala! Why is everything about Sarabi? On a day like today it should be about me, after all it is the anniversary of my ascension to the throne. Oh yes, it was two years ago that my dear brother so tragically died here, and Simba… well, he vanished."

"Vanished? Scar, what happened to him?"

Sarabi sharply inhaled and shook her head. "Please Sarafina, not now. Please."

"Yes Sarafina, listen to your friends." An unfamiliar sound, a trickling, crumbling, shuffling sound – the falling of loose earth – came from beyond Scar. All four listened until it stopped. Scar quivered as if something had fallen on him then he tipped his head momentarily as if shaking it off.

"Now where was I? Ah yes. It's been two years." Scar moved forward. The lionesses stood their ground. "Two long, lonely years as your king." He moved closer to Sarabi. "Very lonely years." He smiled and turned to Sarafina. "Two years without any company of my own kind. Not exactly very friendly now are we, hmm?" He snapped his head to Nala. "Not a right and proper way to treat your king who has treated you all with the utmost respect; a king who only has your interests, and those of his loyal subjects, at heart. You would think that all of you would adore me, after all I've done for you." He turned back toward the gorge edge. "But no! You all shun me, reject me. You moan, you complain about me behind my back; you conspire against me! You should all support me – your king – but no, you can't even do that one little thing!"

Nala looked in puzzlement toward the other two lionesses.

"But I'll forgive you, if you decide to show me proper respect."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Nala, you of all lionesses know what I mean! You who rejected me. If you all don't change your ways, I'll send you all away for good. There's others who I am sure would be more than willing to take your places; lionesses who know how to look after their rightful king."

Nala glared at Scar. "You are not our rightful king!"

Oh no? So who is? Mufasa? No, he's dead. Simba? Where is he Sarabi? Where is your precious Simba?"

"Scar! Stop this! Can't you see what you're doing to Sarabi?"

"ME! Oh very well. Sarabi, now listen to me." Sarabi raised her head defiantly. "Listen. I can see how upset you are. I really can. Now listen, let no one mention your mate's name again."

"Do you mean Mufasa? You can't be serious!"

"Why yes Sarafina - and I'll let you off that one. Let it be known that no one is to ever mention that name again." He leaned his head, looking at Sarabi. "It's for your own good Sarabi. You'll be much happier now that you don't have to keep on being reminded."

Nala protested, "But Scar –"

"No buts! I am the king. I have spoken, it is so."

Nala turned and stomped away.

"Oh what is her problem? Well, you, Sarafina, you're her mother: what's wrong with her this ti –"

The earth shook. A rumble folded over the gorge. Thick dust clouded the group, obscuring Scar. He cried out. A hawk's screech pierced the dust, echoing from the gorge walls. A second later the crashing, rending sounds of wood splitting rang up. Moments later a dull thud closely followed by a crash.

Nala froze. The dust began to clear. Sarabi and Sarafina looked at each other in bewilderment. Sarabi, shaking her head, moved carefully forward, checking the ground with a forepaw. Where Scar had stood, over five lengths of the cliff edge had disappeared. Sarabi lay down to spread her weight. She inched forward to the clean-broken edge from which a trickle of earth fell. She held still; it stopped. Looking down where only seconds ago there had been solid ground, at first she saw nothing.

"Well, can you see him?"

Trying to control her breath, her throat drying with the dust, she replied, "No." Then, swathed in dust, far below beyond a desiccated tree now torn apart, a ridge emerged. "Wait…" Laying on it, deathly still, was the unmistakable form of Scar. "I see him."

"Come away," said Sarafina flatly. "Leave him there…"


	2. The King I See Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarabi descends into the gorge to see to find Scar is still alive, but can he, and should he be saved?

**_The King I See Inside_ **

Leave him there. Leave him there? This is emptiness, nothingness. It eats lions: it took Mufasa from me. I offered up Simba to this place and it took him too. Now it's taking Scar. Yes, leave him here. It would be better for all of us if he… oh to be free of him. Nala need never fear the sound of approaching padding in the night. Sarafina can at last find a decent, ordinary, boring lion to keep her from loneliness. I just want to sleep… to live again. – "Come Nala." - To hunt for my own cubs, for our own pride; free of the hyenas, free of Scar, just free.

Sarafina's voice cut across Sarabi's thoughts. "Nala?"

Nala paced nervously, looking to the ground. "Where'd he go? Where is he? Where?" She turned and began to pace back. "No lion, not even Scar, can just disappear!"

"NALA!"

"…Mother?"

"Yes, Nala, it's me. Listen, he's dead."

"Dead! He can't be! He can't just die! Where is he? Where'd he go?"

Dead at last. The "king" is dead, long live the… the… well, what does happen now? It can't be that simple can it? Please Mufasa, help me. Give me the wisdom to see and the strength to do whatever it is I have to do. We came here when we were young; just you and I. Do you remember? We played among the rocks over there. We thought we were so rebellious, so daring. We stopped out here forever, until we heard your mother's call. Oh yes, once we heard there was something to eat we went back alright! We were sure we'd get shouted at, at the least, but no one even realised we'd been away. Our "rebellion" was just a little afternoon's playtime while everyone else was napping. We were hardly going to change the world. Now look at us.

Sarabi gazed down at Scar. He lay on his side on a ledge almost a hundred lengths below, his shoulders and forequarters under a bark-shorn, still barely leaved tree limb. Though she could not see them, she imagined his sharp eyes staring unseeing out over the gorge. This was not the way she had imagined his passing. It left so many unanswered questions, and felt so empty as if he had arranged it all just to leave her and the other lionesses in as bad a situation as possible.

Most lions left a proud legacy when they went: cubs and warm memories. Scar left a hole as big and empty as the gorge. He left no cubs, nor even the promise of any: his legacy was the hyenas and the perfunctorily grieved loss of his brother and nephew. He could have done so much, but his was a wasted gift: his ambition led elsewhere, not to the benefit of his own kind but to others. That, at least, might be thought by some to have had a sliver of nobility.

Why weren't you a good king? You never showed any signs of taking leadership seriously. Your father tried to teach you, but you didn't want to know. You cast nothing but disdain on Mufasa when he became king. You must have hated the idea of being king, but then, were you shocked when you were thrust to onto the throne? You could have done so much.

Then he moved; just a twitch of the tail, but he moved and was still once more. Sarabi was not sure she had really seen it. She watched on.

"Sarabi? Will you come home now?" Sarafina looked on as Sarabi lay still at the crumbling edge. "I'm going now Sarabi. Nala is coming with me."

"Am I, mother?"

"Yes."

Move! Damn you Scar, it's not too late. Do one good thing for a change! MOVE!

"Sarabi?"

There! He moved! He's alive! "He's alive! He's alive! Look! Look both of you. He's alive!"

"No Sarabi! He can't be. No one could have survived that fall."

"He is Sarafina. Come and see!"

"Alive… dead… alive…Scar alive," Nala muttered. "No, no, can't be. Must be dead. Must be."

"You're frightening Nala, Sarabi. He fell. He's dead."

Sarabi turned her head back from the edge. Sarafina stared at her, her eyes wide and her shoulders taut, the hair along her back prominent.

Nala paced back and forth a few lengths beyond, her eyes fixed on the ground. "The gorge reached up and took him down like a crocodile."

Sarabi thought quickly. "NALA!"

"Yes?"

"Nala, now listen to me." Nala lifted her head toward Sarabi. "Scar - Isn't - Dead."

"What? But he –"

"He's not dead. He's lying on a ledge down there. He's injured but he's not dead."

Sarafina eyed Sarabi intensely. "He will be if we leave him. Sarabi, get real. Don't you see? This is our chance to get rid of him."

"And what will the hyenas think?"

Sarafina flicked her head and tail up and away from Sarabi. "Who cares what the damn hyenas think?"

"They'll think we killed him, Saffi. They'll think we did it. It doesn't matter what actually happened. We'll never convince them that it was an accident."

"Yes, they'll never believe us!" Nala interjected.

"Exactly!" emphasised Sarabi.

"So" asked Sarafina in a sharp, almost cynical tone, "what do we do Sarabi?"

"We've got to at least look as though we've tried to save him." Sarabi beckoned to Sarafina with a tilted nod of her head.

Sarafina padded urgently to the edge and peered over. "Save him?" She shook her head and drew back. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. We have to look as though we're saving him. He'll probably die anyway before we get to him."

"Get to him? GET TO HIM? You want us all to go down there, risking our lives, for SCAR?"

"No, just us two. Nala, I want you to go and fetch Rafiki and Zazu."

"Me Sarabi? Why?"

"We don't know where Rafiki went when Scar threw him out but I think you do. You do, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"And tell the others, but quietly! We don't want the hyenas hearing about this just yet. Do you understand?"

For the first time since Scar's fall, Nala's eyes brightened. "Yes, I understand." She looked away back to Pride Rock. "Where will you be when I get back?"

"We'll be getting down to Scar. Don't try and come down there yourself: send Zazu to find us. We'll send word with him. And Nala…?"

"Yes Sarabi?"

"This is important. You do understand don't you? Your mother and I are relying on you."

"Don't worry Sarabi. I understand. Get Zazu to come here and find you, then find Rafiki and tell him. Don't alert the hyenas. I've got it."

"Good. Now go, and may the stars look down on you."

Nala looked up to the sky before setting off. The lionesses' day had started late, and it was already well into the afternoon before they had arrived at the gorge. Sarabi knew that Nala would not be able to get to Pride Rock and back before dark. She would be gone until morning.

Sarabi watched in silence until Nala had crested the nearest rise. Then Sarafina turned to Sarabi. "What has got in to you Sassi? If you think I'm going down there to try save that lion you're crazier than he is."

"I am going down there. Alone if need be. Even if I'm wrong we'll have to make sure he's really dead and not going to inconveniently reappear later on." Sarabi watched as Sarafina shook her head and then sighed, her ears flitting. "I understand if you don't feel you can come with me. I don't know if I'd come with me."

"How are you even going to get down there?"

"I don't know. I'll look along the edge. There might be a way to get down somewhere."

"Mufasa and Simba aren't down there anymore." Sarafina's tail arched with twitching tip. "You know that. Anyway, there is a way. Remember? Where Scar took us to show us where it happened, remember? "

"Ah yes, I remember now. It's not far from here. I'll go that way." Sarafina gave Sarabi a resigned nod. "But Saffi, you go with Nala if you want: make sure she doesn't get into any trouble. She needs her mother. She needs you."

"No, she can more than look after herself. I'll come with you, but only to make sure he doesn't just up and disappear like Mufasa and Simba. I want to see his body. I want to look into his cold dead eyes."

It took some time for the lionesses to find the steep path down into the gorge. It had been deep into a long and traumatic night when Scar had led them down to where he had helplessly watched Mufasa's desperate and futile attempt to battle against the stampede to save Simba. The herd, several thousand strong, had had no respect for monarchy and had cruelly swept them both away… or so Scar had said.

The lionesses at first passed by the deep dip at the head of the path, dismissing it as it appeared overgrown and impassable. After searching on fruitlessly for most of an hour, ever closer to the widening, and deeply shadowed side ravines of the gorge that were the elephant's graveyard, it was Sarafina who realised their mistake and persuaded Sarabi to turn back.

They struggled through the brush with the weakening sun low on their backs. Soon, with the edge of the plateau above them, they were in deep shadow. The air was still and cool. Though it steepened, under pad the sandy ground felt secure and safe. Sarabi led down carefully. She barely noticed the green of the scattered brush, barely felt the coolness under her paw, and paid little heed to the moist dark of the undisturbed ground.

Sarafina said little. She looked for each pad-fall, often gingerly holding back to make sure the way ahead was clear.

Sarabi stopped. Sarafina was some way behind so she waited, looking around. Some way above and to her right, the full, terrible extent of the collapse was now apparent. The gash in the gorge side was several times deeper than it was wide, and much darker than the bluffs to either side. The fallen sandy earth and rock, several thousand tonnes, though Sarabi had little concept of ground having weight, covered everything in dead brown to a little above the ledge where Scar had come to rest. Only it wasn't a ledge. Though still some way below, it was clearly much wider than it had appeared from the plateau. Sarabi saw that it was the top of a stack, a pillar of sandstone – one of many, including that from which Scar has shown her the site of her mate's and son's loss – that formed the lower levels of the gorge walls.

The landslip darkened and bared the otherwise remarkably green gorge wall: mosses, grasses on the ledges, even short stunted trees, such as the one that must have broken Scar's fall and thrown him clear and possibly safe, of the smothering bulk of the slip.

If it's killed him, it's killed so much more. There's life here, green, cool, sheltered life. Above there's nothing anymore. It's all gone, or going. The Pridelands is dying, but here in the gorge, life carries on. How? This place does more than just kill. How can it kill and yet sustain? If we could only find out what it is, how it does it, and take that back. That's what we need: new life.

Sarabi looked up. The clouds, while beginning to break up, still scurried leaden grey above.

We're like those clouds: we're grey and cannot give life. None of us rain anymore. There he is: Simba. He's so young still. He's jumping up on that dead tree down there; hanging, clinging on to life. "Simba! Hold on! I'm coming!"

"Sarabi? Are you OK?"

Simba fell and was swept away before he struck the ground, dissolving into dust, carried off on the wind.

"Yes Saffi. Yes, I'm alright. Come on, we're over halfway there. We can reach him before dark."

"Reach who?"

"S… Scar."

"I did say this wasn't a good idea. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

Sarabi stood silently for a moment. Then she led off down the still clear path. Sarafina followed closely.

The slope soon lessened and they came to a mass of stacks. Pillars all folding into others, joined, layered, tumbled together. Sarabi felt cold as she stood on a stack's flat top. She looked down and shivered when she thought she heard the rumble of the wildebeest herd scouring the gorge below.

"Look, Sarabi! There's earth's still falling. Smaller… but we shouldn't stay here any longer than we need. It's not safe."

Sarabi snapped her head back toward Sarafina.

Maybe she's right. "He's got to be here somewhere close. Come on."

The sky was beginning to redden when they finally found Scar. They had taken more hours than the seconds he had taken to fall to this place. Sarafina held back as Sarabi approached slowly. His side rose and fell with his steady but slow breathing. He was in the same position he had been when Sarabi had first seen him from far above. He had not moved. She picked her way around the loose soil chunks and dusty crumble of the fall.

Standing as close to the edge as she dared, she finally saw his face. He looked out sideways through his drawn-forward muzzle with terrifyingly glazed, unseeing eyes. He made no movement, no blink; no shiver of recognition as she came into what she assumed must be his view. Scar was indeed alive, but some strange sort of un-aliveness quite unlike anything Sarabi had ever seen. She recoiled, averting her gaze from him.

"What's wrong Sarabi? Is he dead?"

"No. He's… alive. I'm sure he is; he's breathing."

"Show me." Sarafina came forward, alongside Sarabi. She looked at Scar. It was an unfamiliar view, one that few lions, save perhaps the cubs he had never fathered, could ever have seen. Sarabi drew back, Sarafina moved closer, sniffing at Scar's still form. A scent drew her towards his mane. Where it gave way to his dark fur, it was matted to the lose earth: matted with thick, hardened blood: lots of blood.

"Sarabi?" she said without breaking her gaze from him. She called again: "Sarabi?"

Sarabi stood at the edge of the stack, unhearing, looking intently out and up to the now blooded sky. She gathered her breath and roared out, "You lose!"

'lose.'

"I'll not let you take him. Do you hear?"

'Hear, hear.'

"You've taken Mufasa and Simba but you're not taking Scar!"

'-ing Scar, Scar, Rrr.'

Birds, settling in the acacia tops below, shimmered up, folding into swirling, wheeling flights. A shadow rushed close by overhead. Sarafina looked up but saw nothing but the brightened, orange-gold edged clouds.

Sarabi closed her eyes for a few seconds, and then turned back to Scar. He lay still. He had always lacked Mufasa's bulk, but he was by no means thin. His firm muscles covered his bones well, tight and dense. He carried little fat, though two years of indolence and indulgence had begun to change that. His coat almost matched the setting sun; his dense mane, rich, deep brown with the low falling light behind, draped close over his shoulders. His face, so often tightened by a scowl, was relaxed so that his black lips fully covered his teeth. For once – Sarabi noted it as it was so unusual for Scar – his claws were retracted; the lighter fur on the tips of his heavy paws looked soft, as if he were about to touch his new-born cub for the very first time.

Sarabi looked over him, checking him for injury. Other than a few lengthy gashes across his ribs and up along his shoulder he appeared miraculously unharmed by the fall. The blood though, now hardened and cold, in his upper mane and on his forehead, had to come from somewhere. It could only be from the side on which he lay.

Simba would be this size by now: a full grown lion, a proper mane, and eyes to melt any lioness's heart.

Sarabi got her nose under the tree bough and shoved. She strained to move it, but managed to lift it up and finally tossed partially aside. Unsure of what else she could do, she turned round and settled down beside Scar's motionless body. He was warm and strangely comforting. She laid her head on his forelegs.

She woke to a violent, repeated paw-prodding. It was almost dark; the sky over the far side of the gorge held the last glow of evening.

"Sarabi, get up! Rafiki's here."

"What? How?"

"Zazu saw us and guided him down most the way through the darkness. I went up to see what the commotion was about, and then brought him down the rest of the way. Come on, get up. Let him take a proper look. Though what he can see in this, I'll never know. I can barely see anything myself."

Sarabi shut her eyes for a few seconds, trying to wake them up. When she opened them, Rafiki stood just a length ahead, eyeing her intently. She rose, the cool of the night gripping her suddenly. The mandrill waved her away. She stepped forward, carefully avoiding Scar's legs and paws, and joined Sarafina. She couldn't bring herself to watch as the mandrill examined the lion.

"Rafiki says Nala's not handling this too well. I need to – "

"Go to her Sarafina. She needs you. She needs to know she can do things on her own. She's done well so far, but she still needs her mother's help and support."

"What will you do? You can't stay here."

"Yes I can."

"But the pride…? I told you the best thing would have been to leave him to die."

Sarabi turned back towards Scar to consider her reply. Rafiki shook his head and moved to join them. "I concur. This lion's not responding. Oh don't you worry, he is not in any pain. He won't know. It would be best to let him go. He'll not last the night most likely."

"Let him GO?" Sarabi turned and bore down on Rafiki. "Mufasa is… dead. My Simba, my son is lost. My mother died and my sister killed. 'This lion' is alive and he -" She lurched forward, closing tightly on Rafiki, getting right in his face. "-is my only hope. He's all I have left. He's all any of us have left. So if you honour Mufasa's memory as much as you love that stick of yours, you had better try and save him."

"His head must have hit the ground hard. It's a very bad injury. There is… there is little that I can do."

Sarabi turned away, withdrew a length and slumped to the ground. "Then… please Rafiki… do that little. If he dies… then he dies. If he lives…" She sighed. "I'm not going anywhere. I need to sleep. I'll be right here at dawn either way."


	3. Mufasa's Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distressed by the gorge, Sarabi begs Rafiki to drug Scar in an attempt to get him out.

**_Mufasa's Queen_ **

As the waxing crescent moon sank behind filigreed cloud, Scar's guttural murmurs woke Sarabi. Scar shuddered and twitched then lay still. Sarabi tried to focus, but the flickering, thin moonlight scrambled the shadows, confusing every shape and twisting every outline. Then, with a stiffening of his whole body, Scar's pained moaning began again, rising slowly into an unnatural, unnerving, and inimitable agonised howling. Sarabi lay still, pinning herself tightly to the ground as all around her, the gorge seemed to give up all who had died there; shifting spirits rose up, tangled and torn, all screaming In torment.

The howling filled and shattered Sarabi, her terrified body resonating and quaking. She felt Mufasa's spirit rip through her. It could only be him, he warmed her and calmed her and made her feel like a mother again. Then the sound subsided. Scar quivered and his hind legs thrashed. While no ordinary lion would ever have willingly made such un-leonine sounds at least it meant one thing: Scar was still alive. Determined to not let him succumb to the spirits, Sarabi pressed herself to him, giving him her bodily warmth, willing him back from whatever hell he had entered to be judged for his crimes. He too was warm, and as his cries subsided, he seemed to press back, belly on Sarabi's spine and hindquarters, calling silently to Sarabi's mother-instincts. She responded, gently licking his foreleg on which she rested her head. Soon Scar was still once more. Sarabi closed her eyes, letting her ears fall, refusing any memories that might disturb her further. She slipped back into uneasy sleep.

It was light; it was well into morning. When grains of dry earth flicked on to her flank, Sarabi woke. Determined growls and an angry roar rolled down from the grassy plateau above. Looking up to where they had come, Sarabi saw that yet more of the high bluffs had fallen. A light scatter of fresh earth-fall all around and on her and Scar's sides showed it was falling still. Looking about, the route down seemed to still be open. Indeed Sarabi was sure she could make out movement amongst the higher rock stacks.

Sarabi rose carefully, easing herself away from Scar. She shook, stretched and turned to look out over the gorge. The clouds were gone; the sun already beat down mercilessly on the far side, though as yet the gorge floor was still in shadow. She looked back. Scar lay as still as before, though Sarabi felt sure he looked more at ease, as if merely sleeping. She knew he had moved in the night, but she was sure no one would believe her.

Sarabi turned her ears sharply as she thought she caught someone high above calling her name. She strained to listen, but heard nothing. Then it came again: "Sarabi! Scar! Raf-" She couldn't locate the call: the gorge walls echoed and distorted all sounds, magnifying one moment then pulling back and stifling the next.

"Sarabi!"

Sarabi roared back. Then gulping in air, called more softly, "Sarafina?" She realised she was wrong as she recognised the distinctive sinuous curves of Nala's back at the run.

"No, it's me, Nala!" Soon Nala rushed into full sight and stopped abruptly on the ledge, breathless. "Sarabi- we've- we've got to get out of here! The hyenas- hyenas are getting really suspicious. They want to see Scar, dead or alive."

Sarabi looked to Scar, Nala followed her gaze. "He's still alive, but I don't think he's going anywhere for several days at least, maybe weeks."

"Weeks!" Nala stared incredulously. "Weeks? Sarabi, we haven't got weeks. We've got to get Scar back to Priderock and soon."

"You're right. Look up there. See? The bluffs are still crumbling. They could fall and crush us anytime. But I don't think…" Sarabi looked out across the gorge, smiling gently.

"What don't you think?"

"I don't think the gorge wants us dead. Not yet at least."

"What?"

Sarabi turned her head slowly to Nala. "I think it wants us to know the truth, and Scar knows that truth."

"Sarabi! It's the hyenas we have to worry about. They're all fired up about some strange, huge beast they heard in the night. Coming to kill us all they said. Scar has to save us, somehow…"

"No, it's the earth-falls that are the greatest danger. The hyenas and their 'mystery beast' can wait."

"We can't! Look, we'll just have to leave Scar if he can't get out. We can let the hyenas come down here and get themselves killed if they must, but we've got to go."

"Listen Nala. Scar's not dead, and I'm not giving up on him. I'm not letting him die. Never give up on those you love while there's hope. Do you hear me?"

Nala dropped her head. "Yes Sarabi."

"You have hope for Simba still don't you?"

"Eh? Well, I… I… well, yes, of course."

"You see? Now, where is Rafiki?"

"Rafiki? He's on his way. He… he wanted to avoid the hyenas so he's coming up from the gorge floor. Sarafina is coming down too; she's just given Shenzi and Banzai a few things to remember. She stayed back to make sure they've gone."

Hyenas above, the gorge floor below; Sarabi and Nala were stuck between with Scar. The ledge was feeling crowded now that Rafiki had joined them and Sarafina was making her way down from the plateau.

Rafiki examined Scar, listening, feeling, peering, and poking and prodding with his stick, shaking its gourds mysteriously over him. The lionesses looked on in hopeful silence. At length Rafiki pronounced his prognosis while continuing his examination. "He's not badly hurt – no broken bones – just a few cuts and bruises."

Sarafina jumped in ahead of Sarabi. "Rafiki, we know that. So why is he still asleep?"

"Ah, but is he asleep? Tell me that."

"Of course he-"

"No, no. How many times you've slept for days eh? Not many. Not ever. He's not asleep."

"So what is he?"

"He's… elsewhere. He'll be fine when he gets back."

"When?"

Nala amplified her mother's question: "Yes Rafiki, when? Just when will he 'get back'?"

"When he's done what he need to do. Days maybe; weeks probably."

Sarabi broke her silence to press Rafiki gravely, "Rafiki, he hasn't got days, let alone weeks. We have to get him out of here today. We can't carry or drag him out, he's too heavy. He has to walk out. You've got to be able to do something, surely?"

Rafiki sat back and pondered, stroking his chin. "There is one thing, maybe. It'd maybe get him walking but it could just as easily kill him. But if we knew more…" He pointed down to the now dried but deeply blood stained sand on which Scar's head lay. "That blood has a story to tell, but it's not talking to Rafiki."

I don't know. If it's not Scar, then it's not the blood; it's the gorge, that's what can tell the story. It knows these secrets: all that's locked inside Scar. It knows why it took Mufasa. It knows whether any cub of mine will ever live to have cubs of their own: it knows where Simba went. I want just one of my cubs to outlive me. Is that so bad? Why else would I be blessed with Mufasa? So many lionesses have to mate to fulfil their duty, yet I was blessed indeed to be given Mufasa. I would have gladly given him all the cubs he had ever wanted, and still wanted more. Why take such beauty from us? Why take him, gorge? Why not take Scar? He had no cub to leave behind; no lioness to grieve for him, no pride looking to him to lead. No one hated him then; he was just Scar. Who would have cared if he had died there on your dusted floor? But now… now who but his hyenas would mourn if you took him from us? So why is he still alive? What right do you have to hold him here on your dust? Is there some dark purpose still for him in this land?

"Sarabi? … Sarabi!"

"What…. What is it now Sarafina?"

"What do you want to do?"

"What?"

"Rafiki? Should he do it?"

"Do it."

Rafiki stepped closer to Sarabi, speaking to her quietly. "Are you sure? It could kill him."

"Yes, I know. When did he ever care who he hurt? Just do it."

"Very well. I just, err, happen to have some here, err, that I have already prepared."

"Give it to him."

"Well Sarabi. I would, but it's not simple. It's best if we get him to eat it."

"Look at him. Can't you see that's not going to happen?"

"Yes, yes. Ah, well, in that case we have to get it into his blood."

"His blood?"

"Yes, very important: direct into his blood." The lionesses all looked at Rafiki in anticipation. "But he hasn't any fresh, open wounds. Can't put it in, see?"

"So what do we do?"

"You have to open a wound."

"Me? Me injure him? You're meant to make him better, Rafiki, not cut him about even more! There's been too much of our pride's blood shed already in this gorge, and you want to give it more?"

"It's the only way he's going to walk out of here Sarabi. Do you really want him to die here, because you refused to cut him?"

Sarabi pushed her rising feelings into her tensing shoulders. "I'm not going to do it. Do you hear gorge. I'm not going to hurt him. I'm going to save him!"

Sarafina pushed forward. "I'll do it."

"NO SAFFI!" Sarabi flicked out her paw, claws extended. She pulled her strike so close to Sarafina's cheek that both could feel the heat of the other.

"You're prepared to hurt me, but not do this to save Scar? Stand aside Sarabi, you're not the lioness I remember."

Sarabi took two deep and lightly held breaths, and then lowered her paw, withdrawing her claws slowly. She stepped back, clearing the path to Scar. Turning away to look out over the gorge, she shuddered as she felt Sarafina's blow land. There was no cry of pain, no growl of exhilaration, no thud of a body brought down; just the cold rending of skin and warm flesh by a well-tended, practised claw. A gourd cracked. Sarabi heard Rafiki fussing for several moments. Then she felt his arm over her shoulder.

"Sarabi, you're strong; not even Scar's broken you yet. Beware, there's passion deep in you too, like your father-"

"You knew my father?"

"Never met him, but I heard of him: headstrong, stubborn, cussed even; very short-tempered but fair and just; and he had a look that could melt a lioness at twenty lengths."

Sarabi stared out. At length she quietly said, "How long will it take?"

"Don't know; never given it to a fully grown lion. You don't know what he weighs, do you?"

"Weighs? No, of course not. Does it matter?"

"Don't give him enough he'll… he'll just have some wild, wild dreams. Not quite enough and he'll not be able to walk. Too much and he'll never walk again, or dead. At least he'll go happy. What he weighs is what makes 'just enough' into 'too much'".

"Didn't you check?"

"Check? Just how am I going to do that eh? I'm not allowed within five hundred lengths of him! It's the law: just ask Zazu. Have you lifted him up?" Rafiki lifted his head over Sarabi's back and looked over to the other two lionesses "No, and you Sarafina? No, I didn't think so. I had to… estimate. What else could Rafiki do eh?"

Sarabi sighed. "So, what happens now?"

"Can't be sure. Rafiki won't be here, for sure: can't take that risk. I want to live." The lioness stood by silently. "He'll wake in a few hours. He won't really wake. He'll still be in a sort of dream. He'll do whatever he does in that dream. You'll be anything but Sarabi to him. You have to be in his dream too, guiding him, leading him home."

Sarafina moved closer. "Rafiki, what will I be?"

"Only he'll know. His mother, a six-headed wildebeest, a fire-demon, a talking pink slug called Quentin, Mufasa even but not you."

"How do you know?" Sarabi asked. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yes." Rafiki paused. "I had tasted some of this once. Spent the next day talking about flying with Mufasa."

"I… I don't remember that."

"No, you wouldn't. He'd been dead three moons. I think I've got the dose just about right now. I still see Mufasa… I'd better be going; I can't be here when he wakes."

Sarabi alone felt Rafiki's gentle squeeze of her shoulders. Then, despite the heat of the day building all around, she felt chilled as he lifted his arm away. "Thank you Rafiki, for everything you've done for Scar."

"No, Sarabi. I did it for you."

Rafiki scuffled away back down toward the gorge floor. As soon as he was out of earshot, Sarafina padded over to Sarabi and sat by her side. "Sarabi, you do remember that we have to put down mad lions, don't you?"

"Yes. I think we can keep Scar away from anyone if he starts to rant."

"The law, Ahadi's law, applies to lionesses too."

"If you're going to just be negative then you'd better find something else to do." I'm the queen, and I can do what I want… no, only if it's the right thing to do. "I am aware of that. Until Scar's back on his paws we have to keep things in order. You can see that, can't you?"

"Yes Sarabi, but you're not the King of the Pridelands."

"I am queen."

"A queen, but not Scar's queen. I could have been, and so, the stars shine down upon her, could Nala there."

"I am still Mufasa's queen."

"Yeah, like I said, that law applies to lionesses too."

"Go follow Rafiki. He knows the way down in the gorge and back home."

"No Sarabi. I'm not your servant; I'm your friend if you remember. You go yourself."

"Please Sarafina, I can't go. I can't leave Scar."

"You heard Rafiki. He won't wake for a few hours at least; plenty of time for you to scout the route. You've been here for how long? Too long! Go on, take a break and get away from here for a while."

"You've got to scout Sarafina."

"Why? Why do you have to stay here with Scar? Why?"

"Look you two," Nala interrupted. The two lionesses turned and looked to her. They had all but forgotten she was there. "I'll stay with Scar"

"No, Nala. I must stay."

"Sarabi, you said we're all in this. Mother's right: you need a break, you go scout. Mother can go back to the pride and I'll stay and look after Scar."

The two elder lionesses turned to each other and agreed wordlessly. Sarafina looked sternly at her daughter. "Are you sure? What if he tries anything?"

"What can happen? You heard Rafiki; if he's going to wake it won't be for several hours. Now go on both of you! I'll be fine."

"Are you sure Nala?" asked Sarafina.

"Or course mother. Now let me be." Sarafina tightened her forehead. Sarabi had seen this before. Nala had made up her mind. That was the end of the matter.

As Sarabi watched Rafiki, noting his path to the distant gorge floor, Sarafina looked on. Something had changed between the two, accentuated by Sarabi's silence. Soon Sarafina set off alone back up the gorge to the plateau.

Still resolutely looking out over the gorge, Sarabi calmly called to Nala, "Do you remember Simba?"

"Of course I do. How could I forget that little furball?"

"That 'little furball' is my son."

"Yes, of course. I meant-"

"I know what you meant. You're right. There wasn't much to him then was there? But you two got on, didn't you?"

"Sure… we were friends. It wasn't as if we were really going to be married or anything… were we? We were way too young."

"No, not if you two didn't want to. It was always your choice, both of you." Sarabi finally dropped her head, turning to look into Nala's eyes, softening her tone. "You're not too young now."

"I'm not, but Simba… he's still that young isn't he? He'll always be young."

"I don't know Nala. Yes I do. I know he's alive somewhere. He has to be."

"What would he be like now? All grown up I mean?"

"A lot like his father, and a bit like me too I shouldn't wonder."

"I don't…. I don't remember his father."

"I do… I often wish I didn't: that I could forget and move on, but Mufasa's always with me; always in me, living here in me. He might live in Simba too."

Sarabi stepped over to Scar. The wound, oozing green-brown over more than a paw's width on his upper inner thigh, was where a lioness would first open up any carcass. Sarafina clearly had been coolly efficient. Sarabi bent down to lick at the ooze but stopped short, remembering Rafiki's warning of its potency. It smelled surprisingly sweet, with a mild tang of spice; not at all as unpleasant as it looked.

Now all they could do was prepare to leave the gorge, to scout… and wait.


	4. The Valley of the Shadow of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarabi and Nala start the journey to take the injured Scar back home.

**_The Valley of the Shadow of Death_ **

"Go Sarabi! I can look after Scar." Sarabi stood firm. Nala shoved forcefully past. "If you stand there much longer you'll begin to look like my mother. Now go."

"Are you sure you're going to be OK?"

"Yes! How hard can it be, looking after a sleeping lion? Where's he going to go?"

"Nala, the bluffs are still falling."

"Yes, I know. Look, I'll watch out."

"If anything happens, you get away. Leave Scar. You understand?"

"Yes Sarabi. Now go on, go."

Sarabi awkwardly backed a couple of paces away from Scar. Then, turning down slope, she paused and looked back. Nala, settling beside Scar, shook her head slowly then flicked it, quietly shooing Sarabi away.

Sarabi walked off, a little unsteadily at first; her accustomed poise returning as the stiffness in her legs eased. She had no real idea how much the awakened Scar might be able to do. Would he be able to walk as he normally did, or would Rafiki's unguent so cloud his mind that he would need guiding at every pawfall? Just what would he be able to do? There was little chance that he'd be able to run, nor even jump, so the way had to be easy.

Over time that made the lives of lions seem like fleeting moments, the rock of the gorge had crumbled down to coarse sand that filled any gaps in the bed rock, and made the path fairly smooth. At first it was broad enough for all three to go abreast, allowing the lionesses to support Scar if needed. Further down, the bed rock intruded more, both narrowing the path and making the going harder. Even so, Sarabi felt that Scar could most likely manage. He had to, there was no choice: there was no chance that he could have climbed out back up to the plateau. It was either this path, or not get out of the gorge at all.

Further down still, the path turned sharply back on itself, snaking down the gorge side. The way ahead was studded with rocks, many no bigger than a lion's paws. Some, much larger and reaching down into the ground, demanded careful pad-fall. Some were so big that they had to be walked around or over. All had been sculpted and smoothed by the wind, and felt warm but comfortable under pad. Some, cracked and broken, their once-smooth surfaces shattered into jagged, raw edges, ridged up painfully into Sarabi's tough, slate-dark pads. Beyond, the way broadened out, and the slope shallowed, merging into the floor of the gorge. Sarabi could see why Rafiki had chosen this way to come. If Scar could reach here, then he would most likely make it home.

Sarabi stood in shadow at the margin of the gorge floor. The walls towered over her. She felt small, but knew still that the gorge meant her no harm. Maybe it meant Scar no harm too, and had just been caught unawares by his impetuous decision to visit its edge.

The shade was slowly narrowing. By the time they got back here with Scar, they would most likely have to walk up the gorge in full sun. Sarabi's mouth felt dry, her dark lips, dusty. The waterhole felt a long, long way away, and they still had a hard, slow journey just to reach where she now stood. With a resigned sigh, she turned to walk back up the way she had come.

* * *

Nala lay a little way from Scar. "He was shaking – thrashing really – for a while, but he's calmer now. I thought he might wake, but no… he's restful now." Nala lifted her forequarters from the ground, curved her back in a stretch, and then drew herself up to her full height. "Sarabi, what if he doesn't wake?"

Sarabi walked over to Scar. She laid down beside him once more, her head by his hindpaws.

If he died, if Scar died, what then? What would become of the pride? A pride without a male lion was… well, what was it? It would have no cubs, and in time, no future, but then Scar had no cubs anyway, what was the difference? A pride without a male was defenceless. No it wasn't. It was the lionesses who defended the cubs. The males just defended their own pride, their territory and their property; their lionesses; not the pride. A pride without a king was still a pride. It was the lionesses who were the pride. The only thing they really need males for was… no Mufasa; there was more to us than that. There was much more.

Sarabi noticed the blood on Scar's thigh wound had congealed dark and hard. She licked at it distractedly. She was thankful that Sarafina kept her claws clean, and sharp. Sarabi doubted the gashed skin would hold until they got out of the gorge, nor even down to its floor. There was no doubt the wound would be painful. Sarabi knew it would be better for all three if the effects of the unguent blotted out that pain.

The far side of the gorge had lain in full sun for most of the day. As the heat built, so too did the stresses within the rock until, with a shattering report that rolled back and forth across the gorge, some of the rock gave way. Sarabi instinctively sprang up and dashed away. Nala, pacing the edge of the ledge, turned on her hindpaws with a powerful spring from her forelegs. Neither knew from where the sound came, nor what had made it. Both knew it was alien and roared "danger!"

Sarabi took hold of her fear ten or more lengths from Scar. Hearing nothing alarming, she pushed down her fear against her pounding heart and raging breath, trying to regain her composure. She cowered to the ground, straining to listen to any sounds of danger, pressing her chest against the dust in an attempt to control her breathing. Nala stood, wide-eyed but otherwise remarkably calm, some way beyond the still unmoving Scar.

We have to get away. Was that a shot? Had a shot taken Mufasa? Simba ran off terrified, not stopping until so far from home that he couldn't find his way back? No, it was the herd – the gorge. Was Mufasa really already dead as he lay there under that withered acacia trunk? Where were Simba's paw prints? Where had he gone?

"Sarabi!"

If only Scar had known; if only he could tell.

"Sarabi! Look!"

What's she looking at? She's… no-

Nala was staring at Scar. He was looking back: eyes open, just.

Sarabi blinked back at Nala. "Scar?"

"Yes, look at him. He's watching me!"

Sarabi turned her head to watch Scar's side. His dusted, counter-shaded underfur rose and fell with a new, quickened rhythm. "Scar?" she asked quietly. She knew if he replied, the pain would return. Hunting for the hyenas would be all the pride would ever do. That would be their life. None of the lionesses would give him cubs; cubs who would know nothing but toil and exhaustion, pain and hunger. The future of the pride lay in a sound; in a word spoken by Scar. Sarabi waited. "Scar?" she repeated with more insistence. The lion's forelegs shook momentarily, and he then lay still once more. No sound came from him.

With delicate care, Sarabi got up and moved slowly away. As soon as she came into his eye-line, Scar's eyes tracked her all the way to Nala's side. Sarabi though, had a distinct feeling that Scar wasn't with them at all; his eyes took in the light, but Scar, a lion as unique as any that roamed the savannah, knew them not. The two lionesses looked on, staring. Did Scar see them? If so, he showed no sign of recognising them.

"Why's he doing that Sarabi?"

"Get over there so he can't see you."

As Nala bounded off, Scar's eyes followed her as far as his still motionless head, lying sideways on the ground, allowed. Then they stared into the wall of the gorge. Scar had no expression.

"This is really weird."

Scar's upper ear twitched, putting several flies to flight. Then it turned to Nala.

Sarabi called deliberately, enunciating the words clearly, "Scar, can you hear us?" The ear stayed focussed on Nala.

"Scar, it's me, Nala. You can hear me?" Scar's head shifted slightly. Sarabi felt the pain the effort must have caused. The lion's lips quivered, maybe in an attempt to speak. All that passed from them was a plosive breath from deep in his throat. Nala walked back into Scar's eye line. His head dropped back to the ground. Nala went over to him, turning her head and pressing it gently to his. "Don't try to talk; just rest." She backed away, as soon as she got out of Scar's view, he became agitated, turning his ears and twitching his legs. Sarabi looked sternly at Nala. Nala slipped back to Scar's side and lay down beside him. "I'm here. It's all right, I'm here."

He's not going to be able to do this is he? He's not walking out of here. Did Rafiki give him enough? Was that all he'll do? He'll never lead the pride. Mufasa, what have I done? Sarafina was right; I should have left him down here to die. It would have been better for us, better for him. It was the sensible thing to do, wasn't it? But I couldn't. I couldn't just leave him here to die, could I? You wouldn't have left your brother to die would you? You didn't leave our son to die down there. No, you had to try to save him. I had to try and save Scar, and now I'd dragged Nala and the whole pride into this. Will we get out of this? Will we even get out of this gorge? What then? Help me Mufasa, I need you. I need you so much.

After a moment's silent thought, Sarabi walked round behind Nala and Scar and lay down on the loose earth half a length from Scar's back. The blood matting Scar's mane had long since stopped flowing. That much was good, but it had oozed into and become part of the sandy ground. His attempt to lift his head had left his mane coated in browned sand. That only made the full extent of the blood stain more evident. Sarabi sighed to herself, and turning her head away from Scar, tried to rest.

The shadows caught up with them, the stack top was bathed in searing midday sun. Sarabi couldn't sleep; she writhed and rolled, trying to get comfortable: first on her side, then on her back, then forelegs under, then stretched out to one side. Once she rolled over and her hindlegs struck Scar's hindquarters roughly, but he, at least, slept on. A while later, she got up, and walked off, noting Nala was still asleep just as she had lain beside Scar.

When Sarabi returned, she stopped as she came into Scar's view. His eyes were open once more. She moved forward slowly. As before Scar tracked her. Then he lifted his head clear from the ground and looked at her straight with his left eye, his right looked beyond.

"Scar, how do you feel?"

He opened his mouth as if about to speak, but once more, made no sound. He looked confused as if his lack of speech bewildered him. He tried to lift his forequarters, but Nala's weight on his forelegs held him down. She roused, and on feeling Scar's attempts at movement, snatched herself up. "Scar, no! You don't need to move. Stay still and rest!"

"No Nala, it's working. We need him up. Come on Scar, we've got to get you home."

Freed of the burden of Nala's bulk, Scar attempted to rise. His hindlegs appeared not to respond and his forelegs couldn't hold him; he slumped back down.

"That's it! Come on Scar, get up!"

Scar tried again, lifting his upper body off the ground, just about managing to lock his forelegs underneath. Then, straightening his back, he strained to get up on to his hindlegs. At first they wouldn't move. Sarabi feared that he might have broken his back, but surely Rafiki would have seen that? No, Scar had no broken bones; Rafiki had said; he could walk.

Nala stood close to Scar as he made another pained attempt to get to his feet. He closed his eyes, seemingly to gather his strength, and then brought himself to a near-stand, his hindlegs not fully extended. He swayed and then staggered forward. Nala rushed to his side to support him. He stemmed his forward movement and straightened himself up roughly. He was slumped a little on to his right side. His right eye still looked away from Sarabi, but he stood, just about.

Sarabi moved toward him, slipping to his left. His left eye followed. His right stayed where it was. The patch of blood where he had lain was extensive. His left shoulder was caked in his own blood. Looking up, Sarabi soon saw in horror from where it came: Scar's left temple was blooded, and worse, noticeably dented where he had crashed heavily into something as he fell.

"Nala, stay there, please. Keep him up."

Sarabi turned to Scar and closed to his left side. She whispered into his ear, hoping he could still hear. "I'm so sorry Scar. Forgive me." Scar shook and leant heavily on Sarabi. "Can you walk?" He seemed to nod. "Let's go." Scar did not move. "Over there, down that path to the gorge floor." Still Scar did not move, though he did pull himself up to a straighter stand. "Nala, you'll have to show him. Go on!"

Nala moved a length forward, then another. Finally Scar lumbered forward. Sarabi stayed tightly with him. Nala moved on, paused and looked back.

"Don't worry Nala, the way's easy enough. Just follow that path and we'll get down. Go on." Nala nodded and walked forward again. "Not too fast though!"

Scar followed Nala down the slope. His walk soon gained strength and balance, though there was still something not right about it. The two lionesses called to each other often, Nala ahead, unsure of the way, Sarabi at Scar's side, guiding both. Scar though, sleepwalked his way along, saying nothing, oblivious to all pain; such as his thigh wound; and seemingly to anything at all.

The three lions reached the gorge floor much later than Sarabi had expected. Rather than the full midday sun Sarabi had wanted to avoid, they reached the easier going of the sandy floor late into the afternoon. Scar seemed to want to walk out unsteadily to the centre of the gorge, toward a flat platform with a broken spindly acacia stump. Sarabi had to push roughly on his side to steer him away and keep to the side. Above a hawk screeched. Sarabi realised where they were; she pushed much harder, determined not to go to that place again.

"Nala, lead him away. Keep to the side; don't let him wander out there."

"Is that so Sarabi?"

Sarabi's heart shook and held for a moment. She knew that voice. She wanted more than anything to hear it again: smooth, deep, dignified with a hint of playfulness. She closed her eyes. Her heart thumped back into her, racing like her pawfall as she closed on a gazelle. No, this couldn't be. It was everything she had ever asked for come at once. It was close, so close she could lean out and sink herself into that mane again. She breathed in the unmistakable scent, not daring to open her eyes, not believing that it could be real.

"Sarabi-"

"No, not now. Say nothing; just be here." Pressing herself to his side, she felt his heartbeat; his heartbeat, here with her; strong and steady; her head in his mane; his scent all around, enveloping her. "Please be here."

He laughed gently, Sarabi felt his ribs lifting. "Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"

"I don't want to say this, but you're…"

"Sarabi, open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me. Then tell me what I am."

Please no. Let me stay here. I know you're here.

"Open your eyes. You can't hide away for ever. You have so much life still to give."

"I don't… I don't want to be disappointed; to have my heart shattered again."

The voice lifted; lightening almost into a laugh. "You won't be Sarabi. Now then, let's open your eyes and tell me what I am."

Against all her instincts she opened her eyes slowly. Brightness poured into her. It was true.

"You are my king."

"No. You are my queen. The sun has long set on my time as king."

"No, you're here, this is the brightest day."

"Please Sarabi, listen. It has been a long night. You must be ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?"

"The sun will rise again soon, at dawn, after the darkest hours of the night."

"It can never be dark with you here."

"It's darker than the blackest lion's mane. I was afraid I'd lost you. I was lost too but now I know I'll always be with you, but I must go."

"Go? But you've only just come back. Don't go, you don't have to go. Please don't. Mufasa, please!"

"I must. I have duties I must attend to. I cannot help you. You're on your own. You must make your own choices, remember? You always had so much more life than I. Don't hide yourself away; give yourself to others. How many cubs have you had since I… left?"

"Cubs? None, you know that. Without you, and Simba, it seemed so… wrong."

"There is still time. Remember, you have so much life to give; you're so alive. I… I am empty."

Sarabi slowed, lifting her head from out of his mane, letting him move ahead, slipping away from her….

"Sarabi?"

He called back, not breaking his stride, "I am dead Sarabi. I died here in the gorge. You are still so wonderfully, beautifully alive, you must let me go. I don't belong here anymore. I still have work to do."

"Mufasa!"

"Sarabi? Are you alright? What's going on?"

Nala stood wide-eyed a few lengths ahead, alongside Scar. Mufasa was gone.

Sarabi collected her thoughts and feelings, ones she'd thought she'd never feel again. She put them aside and lifting her head called back to Nala, "Nothing. It's all right now. I just felt…"

"You don't look alright Sarabi. When was the last time you ate?"

"Two, three days, no, I don't know… a long time."

"Far too long. Look, I'm sure mother'll have something stashed away somewhere; in one of her trees most likely. I'm sure she's part leopard."

"Look out! Scar's wandering off again!"


	5. Distant Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarabi finally returns to Pride Rock with Nala and the still silent Scar. Though Sarabi's out of the gorge, her problems are only beginning.

**_Distant Clouds_ **

Everything had been Mufasa's. Now it was Scar's, all of it: every parched blade of grass, every lifeless acacia tree, every dried up hollow, every paw-searing rock of every kopje. Everything the light touched, from the river to the forested Kalani Hills to the north-east, and especially the great rock formation, Pride Rock, at the heart; all of it was the pride's lands.

The Nonda, the river that wound around the kingdom's northern and western borders before flowing on south to other prides' lands, had, in places, been reduced to little more than a muddy stream. It had long since forgone the gorge it had cut into the expanse of savannah; flowing instead further north, except in times of flood, when for days and very occasionally weeks, the river crashed and spumed along its ancient course.

Now there was no sign of water along the gorge floor. No stream, no pools, no mud, only dust and sand, fit only for insects and lizards, and the screeching shadow sweeping raptors that took them.

There was one place the light couldn't touch; it lay in perpetual shadow well off to the north of Pride Rock. In part a fragmented side-canyon to the upper reaches of the gorge, and part mire of glooping sulphurous mud, studded by thermal vents. It was a charnel pit, and yet a home to some living. On the gorge floor beyond, small between towering walls, padded two lionesses, one's coat nearly blending into the sand and dust; the other was darker, her head up and tail held strongly, stood to the sides of a larger male. His night-black mane stood out clearly, hanging about his shoulders limply. His movements were faltering and languid; lacking any purpose or direction. It was only the lionesses that kept him moving up the narrowing gorge toward the grassed plain.

Scar leaned hard on to the sandy lioness's side. She held him, taking his weight on her shoulders. His lower jaw slumped to one side, his eyes flicked back and forth irregularly. Lunging to the right, his breath caught in his loose throat, then, twisting his neck, he swallowed noisily and inhaled once more. With every erratic step, Scar seemingly lurched closer to death.

"He's – he's -Sarabi, how much further?"

Sarabi closed onto Scar, dropping back so that she could get her head deep into his mane to lift his. He responded, as she had hoped, taking more of his own weight on his forepaws, and straightening his step. "Just hang on Nala." Sarabi looked out awkwardly. The gorge side was lower than where Scar had fallen.

Some way ahead, Sarabi's view partially obscured with Scar's unkempt mane, the gorge floor became rocky. The rocks tumbled into a series of ledges, with precipitous drops between, that the lionesses could climb, but which Scar clearly could not. On Sarabi's side, the going appeared easier, uneven and steep, but at least seemingly passable for Scar. Further ahead still, the slope looked to lessen, and change colour, with a slight tinge of green. "We've got to get him out of the gorge."

"Sarabi..."

"We can do it Nala. Just get him out, then we can all rest."

Sarabi felt a gentle jolt through Scar's shoulders and flank.

"Sarabi, over there!"

Sarabi rolled her head over to look to her side. An indistinct shape, dark against the late afternoon sun, moved on the skyline. "What?"

"Who are they?"

The shapes split; heads now recognisable on wide shoulders. "Hyenas."

"What do they want? Stinking scavengers. Never bother to hunt, all they do is hang about and watch us kill, fetch and carry; fetch, carry and kill."

The hyenas stood at the edge of the plateau, watching intently. "Probably wanting to see if their 'great leader' really is alive. Either that, or waiting to see if the vultures take us. Besides, both of us could do with a decent wash. I don't know about you, but this sand gets deep between my claws."

Then another shape appeared above, and another, and more and more as the lionesses guided Scar closer to the gorge side.

"There's so many. Is that… are we near that elephant's graveyard place?"

"Yes, those hyenas aren't far from home."

"I've not been there since… Do you remember when Simba and I got into all that trouble? Mufasa arrived just in time to rescue us. Mother hardly talked to me for three days."

"Mufasa wasn't going to talk to Zazu for ages either. I told him it was one of those things that just happen. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't Zazu's. It wasn't really Simba's fault, though it was his idea apparently. No, it was my fault. I should never have let you two go."

"I barely recognise it. We're close. Sarabi, I'm…"

"Remember Ahadi's third rule of being royal: never let your subjects see you're afraid. Keep your head up, your back straight and don't let your tail drop." Sarabi closed her eyes. "They're only hyenas after all."

"I don't know if I can."

"Of course you can." Sarabi shoved Scar's lolling head up forcefully. He swallowed hard and shook his head and mane. "You didn't think you could look after Scar alone, did you? But you did. You didn't think we could get him here alive, but he is."

"But I'm not a queen like you. I'm just…"

"You, Nala, were born to be queen of the Pridelands, just as Simba was born to be king."

"But Simba's dead."

"You mustn't think like that. Simba… he may still be alive. What do you feel in your heart?"

"He's… I don't know."

"You've got to know. It's another rule of queens: you've always got to know, or have an opinion, even if it's wrong; either that, or know nothing." The lionesses passed into the shadow of the gorge wall; the hyenas, for the time being at least, were out of the lionesses' sight. "Watch it! Don't push Scar over so much."

In time, the shadows receded; but only in part due to the lowering sun. Instead the gorge walls dropped and the slope lessened. Scar's pace had slowed. His eyes were noticeably dimming and his breath shortened, but he was still moving.

"Do you think he hears us? Scar I mean, does he understand what we're saying?"

"I suppose he must hear, but I don't think he understands. He's in some other place right now, just as Rafiki said. He's not shown any sign of responding to anything we've said all day."

"Good. Sarabi, I – well, I, you know… I wanted to ask. Well, I mean do you still think about Mufasa?"

Sarabi, worried that Scar's wound might have opened and become painful, padded a third of a length along his flank. She looked to his mane. "Mufasa? I think about him every day. If I don't know what to do, I try to think what he'd do, and I ask him."

"You… you ask him? You mean you talk to him?"

"I see him in everything: in the clouds, in the herds and in the darkness. He's always there. I hear him in the grasses and on the breeze."

"Is he… I mean, is he here?"

"Yes, he's walking with us." Mufasa, you keep out of this. I know what I'm doing. We have to keep on. We can't stop. If we do Scar might never get up again. We have to get home. We have to get to Pride Rock. Tonight.

"Sarabi, please don't tell mother this, but… what I mean is, is Simba ever with him?"

Sarabi slowed.

Simba…

The inside of Scar's right hind leg was matted with his own dried blood. Clearly it had been bleeding, and considerably so, but the flow had stopped some time since. "N- no. Simba's not here, he's never here."

"Does that mean he's-"

"It means nothing Nala. It's just the idle wishes of a hungry fool, nothing more. Mufasa isn't here with us. He'll never be. It's nonsense; fit only for telling in tales to cubs. Simba was just a cub you know. Cubs die. Cubs can… can be replaced."

"Sarabi! You don't really believe that do you? I heard you talk about Mufasa. I didn't know it then, but I do now: I heard you talking to Mufasa. You may be hungry, and you may even have tasted Rafiki's concoction but you're not foolish. You really do see him, don't you?"

Sarabi sighed. "If I did, what difference would it make? So I see dead lions. So? I'm still a lioness. I still taught you and your mother to hunt, to support the pride. I bore the cub you might have been mated to. I can still carry and bring up cubs. You… you're the youngest in the pride, but it is I that still carries the pride. It's my responsibility to keep everyone safe, to keep everyone together. We can't survive without a male. That's why we're here, right now: we're giving our pride what it needs: an adult male lion."

"Sarabi! You're giving the pride Scar! Scar! I'll get him home but I'd rather die than lay for him. I can't stay with the pride for long under him. I just can't. I want a life. I want-"

"You can't have what you want Nala! I was wrong, you can't have Simba!"

"Yeah? But you can have Mufasa? He's still here, that's why you haven't mated again isn't it. HE'S STILL HERE!"

"Nala!"

"He's dead Sarabi. He died back there."

Sarabi wanted to stop, wanted to look back but her need to get home, to leave the gorge, was greater.

Nala went on, "Yes, go on, take a good long look. King Mufasa is dead. You're not, and there's no way most of us will breed with Scar. He kicked me out for refusing him, remember? So unless you do, the pride's dead too. But Scar's pretty much as good as dead already. Look at him. Is this sack of bones really the proud leader of a mighty pride? Is he really to be the father of your cubs? I want to do whatever I can to help the pride. But I just can't with Scar. I mean by the stars he's my own father!"

Sarabi knew she mustn't. She knew she had to be confident and assured. She knew… yet she couldn't. She looked down, looking anywhere else but at Nala. She knew she had failed.

The piercing yellow sun was beginning to set; layers of intensely beautiful reds, rich orange over the browned and blackened horizon. She so rarely watched the sunset. Yet in the last few days Sarabi had watched every moment, every one beside Scar.

"What- what is it Sarabi?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Nala, you know I've always treated you like the daughter I never had."

"I know, but I am not yours. I'm Scar's daughter… with mother."

"You'd better talk to her."

"About what? She's not my mother?"

"NO! No, of course she is."

"So… so… do you mean? No, surely?"

Sarabi looked on sorrowfully. She knew it wasn't for her to say what must be said.

"Scar's not my father? Really?"

"I can't say."

"But you know don't you? You do! So who is- No. No. NO! Mufasa's not my father… is he?"

"No, no. He wasn't. Look, you'd better talk to your mother. She's the one to tell you, not I."

Nala walked on silently, dragging her tail tip along the ground.

"Nala, I thought you knew… especially after what happened with Scar. Would it have made any difference?"

"I'd have hated him less, but there's still no way I'd have gone with him."

"So does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters! Of course it matters. When I needed my father he was never there. I mean Scar wasn't there. He was always scheming with the hyenas. Shenzi meant more to him than I ever did. Banzai too. Yeah, it matters. You can't count the number of times I've wanted to kill Scar. If he hadn't fallen off that cliff I'd have pushed him. The stampede might well have killed Mufasa, but I'm sure Scar killed Simba!"

Sarabi stopped. Scar slid on past her, veering away from Nala. "Nala… I… I-" Sarabi moved off, catching up in a few strides.

"Sarabi, oh Sarabi, I didn't mean to upset you. I just know I'll never see Simba again. After everything that's happened, it's just too much. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean all that stuff. If you see Mufasa I understand."

The next few hours as the sun set passed in resigned silence. The weak moonlight, scurried past by thickening clouds, gave the lionesses all they needed to be able to find their way, Scar slowing all the while. The air chilled and dampened. As the moon set a little before midnight, the lions were still some way from Pride Rock. They barely noticed the distant Kalani hills dancing under streaks of silent lightning.

With the rock no more than a few hundred lengths away, Scar, the effects of Rafiki's unguent fast wearing off, finally came to a stop. He stood still for some seconds, staring at the starlight-silvered western face of Pride Rock. Then slumped his head over and collapsed to the ground. Nothing either lioness could do roused him. It was as far as all three would get that day. The lionesses slumped down beside Scar in the open. Sarabi tried to keep watch, but sleep soon overtook her.

They had all come a long way: out of the gorge and almost to Pride Rock, but for each that journey meant very different things. For Sarabi it was an ending. While for Nala it was just beginning. Neither had any idea what it meant for Scar. One thing that Sarabi knew for certain was that Scar had taken every step of the journey with his claws sheathed.

Sarabi woke. The air was close with a chill that the combined body heat of the still sleeping Scar and Nala did little to lift. The sky to the north lit up: silently flashing several times, closer now but still distant enough for Sarabi to give it little further thought. The air smelled damp, full with earthy hints and a freshness she had not smelt for many months. Sarabi shook from her upper back through to her shoulders. The others did not stir. Dropping her head back on her forepaws, she leant into Scar, closed her eyes and tried to slip back into sleep.

"-'rabi!"

Sarabi watched Simba and Nala run off playfully up the hill away from the outcropped rocks. He'd be fine – Zazu would make sure of that.

"Zazu? What use is he, Sarabi? At the first sign of trouble he just goes flapping back to Mufasa."

True… but that may not be such a bad thing. I mean, why can't Mufasa take on a bit of responsibility for looking after his own son for a change? "Yes he does, doesn't he?"

Sarabi felt a welcoming head-butt. "Wake up Sarabi!"

"I'm not asleep; I'm just lying here enjoying the afternoon."

"Afternoon? Open your eyes: it's still dark!"

Sarabi tore her head away from Sarafina's and looked around. The sky was lighter, but in places shrouded and darkened, streaked by slanted drifting folds through which a distant flash barely managed to penetrate. Silence… Sarafina lifted herself to full height and looked up, her green -glinting eyes wide and trembling. The rumble eventually rolled through them, rising, falling and then rising again before dying.

"What is it Saffi?"

"Nothing. The storm'll pass us by. Those two will never know anything about it if they don't wake."

"What is it Saffi?"

"Where the heck have you been? And Nala too."

"She's fine. I could never have done it without her." Sarafina started, twitching her ears up as the distant sky flashed. "What is it Saffi?"

"Nothing. Everything's just fine."

"Then why are you out here, in the middle of the night?"

"I should ask you the same question. Anyway, I couldn't sleep. I was checking out Scar's old cave on Priderock when I saw you out here. Well, I thought it must be you two… and him. Why couldn't you get back home?"

"Scar: he couldn't go any further. It's close to a miracle he got this far. I must apologise to Rafiki. I may not have always thought that much of him in the past, but he certainly came through this time."

"You think this place runs itself do you? You chose a perfect time to go off and leave me in the lurch you know. Couldn't you have just left him for a while? Half a day?"

"What is it Saffi?"

"Come on."

Sarabi lifted her shoulders and chest off the ground stiffly. Sarafina was already moving off. "What about Scar?"

"What about him? You said it yourself: Nala can look after herself. Now come away. Leave him there."

Sarabi looked back to the still sleeping pair.

Yes, Nala can look after herself, and look after Scar too, likely as not. Anyway, he's not going to get up, and this storm'll pass us by, just as Sarafina says.

"What is it now? Come on Sarabi!"

The gorge couldn't get you, Scar, and you got this far, so no storm is likely to either. Maybe there's something good in that bag of bones you call your hide after all. Nala, you rest. You grew up today, not that you'll probably ever think of it that way. "Keep your tail on, Saffi. I'm coming!

Sarafina slipped silently into the shadow of Priderock. By day it was impressive, an unmistakable statement of the pride's strength and power. By night it was almost oppressive; heavy and forbidding. Sarabi didn't like it. It was big, cold, hard… dark. It was ceremonial; it was all show and no heart. It was male. It was for kings and princes, not for queens and commoners. She had lived there with Mufasa in the cave deep in its belly because he was the king, and brought up Simba there because he was the son of the king, but she had never liked it. She, like the other lionesses, preferred the lower, more practical kopjes and outcrops; warmed by the sun all day, not just in the morning as Priderock's promontory was.

"Saffi," Sarabi called into the shadow, "where are we going?"

"Priderock. Now keep quiet or they'll hear us."

Sarabi didn't feel it was worthwhile to ask anymore. She sighed as she opened her pace, breaking into an easy lope. She knew this terrain – the boulder-strewn plain west of Priderock – well enough to know that she would be likely to have to slow to turn almost as soon as she started to run.

The twists to clear each boulder soon made Sarabi aware of how little she had moved in the last few days. She ached and felt every lurch and rued every misplaced padfall. She did not even have the thought that she was going home to ease the growing pain: this was a necessary but somewhat unwelcome detour. She felt it had better be worthwhile.

Sarabi caught up with Sarafina low on the slope to the promontory, brushing her head along Sarafina's flank. Sarafina held her shoulders tense and her ears ahead. She twitched her tail stiffly.

"What's-"

Sarafina silenced Sarabi with a sharp flick of her tail. Sarabi felt Sarafina's heart beat plainly through the lionesses deeply heaving ribs. It wasn't exertion that heightened her breathing, pumped her heart and pricked her ears; something was frightening her, something that was ahead on Priderock, and Sarafina was certainly no easily disturbed lioness.

Sarabi paused, opened her mouth, drawing back her upper lip to better scent the full air. The scent was not of Scar – Priderock was his home – nor even of lion. There was a hint of some bird; Zazu no doubt; but overlaying everything was hyena. A mixture of individual scents, individuals she knew well. She ran to the cave mouth and looked in.

A sleepy female voice drifted out of the cave, "Hey is that the Saffster? 'Bout time you got back. We're wasting away here. What'ya got? Something big and juicy?"

Sarabi now knew why Sarafina had been so agitated. "No Shenzi. It's the 'Rabimeister, and she ain't got you nuffin but a whole heap of trouble."

"'Rabimeis… Oh. Oh yeah, we ain't going to fall for that one are we Banzai?" Shenzi elbowed the sleeping form next to her. He didn't move. "Banzai?" She elbowed him again, much harder.

"Wha?"

"Get up! Sarafina here is trying to tell us how she struck out yet again. I mean, I knew lionesses weren't all they cracked themselves up to be, but you know, I don't know how Scar let them get away with it. Banzai?"

Sarabi rumbled a low growl. "What are you doing in Scar's home?"

"Scar's home? Say, you aren't Sarafina, are you?"

"Get out of Scar's home." Sarabi growled again, long and tense. "Get off Priderock!" She leapt forward, roaring at the hyenas. "GET OUT! GET OUT NOW! GET YOUR STINKING HIDES OUT OF THIS CAVE AND OFF THIS ROCK AND NEVER COME BACK!"

Now Banzai was awake, wide-eyed and staring. The third hyena, normally one to laugh everything off, indeed he did little else, looked on in stupefied terror. Moments later Sarabi rushed them. They scrambled to their paws, scattered into the deepest shadows and rushed with skitter of panicked claws past Sarabi and on out on to the promontory. Banzai yelped as he crashed into the surprised Sarafina, but managed to somehow pick himself up and rush off after the others. Sarafina looked on as they ran off, then turned to join Sarabi in the cave.

Sarabi lay, pushing back her breathing, on the platform in the cave, determined to mask every sign that the hyenas had ever been there, starting with their clinging, reeking scent. This was Scar's home and he would come back to it with it smelling only of lion if it was the last thing Sarabi ever did.


	6. An Almost Lioness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story shifts toward Nala, whose unique skills turn out to be just what Scar needs.

_**An Almost Lioness** _

Pebbles don’t just roll out of bushes on their own.

“Psst! Nala!”

Not that early in the morning anyway. 

“Shuusssh. Simba; I know it’s you. You’ll get us both in big trouble. You know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna know?”

“Nala, who are you talking to?”

Nana turned her head away sharply. “No one mom, I was just- just- just checking out what I’d say to Simba if he did show up.”

Simba had slipped out from the bushes, but froze, a hind and opposite foreleg in the air. Wobbling, he slowly lowered his hindpaw to the ground.

“OK Nala, but do it quieter, please! We’re trying to sleep over here.”

Simba smiled, his ears roundly alert.

“Sure mom. Sorry.”

Simba waited a few moments, and then slipped closer. 

“Well,” Nala whispered out of the corner of her muzzle. “What do you want?” One of the other lionesses’ yawned in the middle distance; a half-asleep, don’t-really-care-who-sees-or-hears, yawn. “This had better be great.”

“Yeah, ‘course it is. You know dad’s gone checking out those kudu that came down from Mbala ridge?” Nala didn’t know. “He said I couldn’t go with him.” Simba looked down at the ground. “But I asked uncle Scar, and he said he’d take us to watch.”

“Simba!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. From a distance – he says it’s too dangerous to go close – he reckons dad’ll catch up with them near the gorge, says we should be able to watch from the top.”

“Simba, I’m grounded remember? Since the graveyard, I can’t go anywhere; and no ways anywhere with you.” 

“He also says that if I’m really good he’s got a big surprise for me.”

“Simba, you’re not listening. I can’t go with you. You’ll just have to go alone with Scar, and don’t go falling into the gorge either.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Of course I want to come, but I just can’t.”

* * *

Nala had been young then; it was the first time she had let anything really hurt her. Cowering between her mother’s paws as Scar seized the lion kings’ throne, she determined that it would be the only time.

Nala was now of age – old enough to ordinarily have been expected to have a family of her own – but still she was the youngest in the pride. She could hunt for herself, but had never had to support cubs of her own. She had inherited some of her mother’s - Sarafina’s - strength and power but still sometimes found bringing it to bear awkward and inconclusive. She was old and skilled enough to hunt alongside Sarabi, Sarafina, and the others but she had never led them. She could, and did when occasion, or more precisely Sarabi, demanded it, demonstrate considerable tactical ability, and the presence of mind, to plan strikes. However, when the time came to execute them, few could not notice she lacked Sarabi’s patience. 

Yet, as an unmated lioness, this mattered relatively little. Surely a young family of her own would be more than enough motivation to refine her skills, to define her abilities and temper her desire to rush into everything. 

Nala scarcely noticed that, despite her youthful rawness, the queen of the pride, Sarabi, kept her close; much closer than her age, experience and position in the pride demanded. She might well enough assume that Sarabi’s friendship with her mother, Sarafina, arguably the pride’s greatest asset at the hunt, explained it all, yet there was more, much more, that Nala was only beginning to understand. Nala - young, impetuous, elemental tempered, strong and sleek-curved - was as yet still an almost lioness; one who perhaps felt that her greatest contribution to the pride might be to leave it.

As it was, Nala was still in the pride she was born into. The darkness was heavy and dense, much as was the mane of the lion she lay next to. She had never really seen a fully grown male close up. Scar had always been aloof; closer to his hyenas than to his own kind, and an even more distant father, never acknowledging her as his own. The only other male she had known had been Mufasa, also a king, but she had been much younger then. He had been the father of Simba. She knew both Scar and Mufasa as kings, and had barely thought of either of them as males. Yet here was a male, a fully grown mature lion; every last inch of him. This male was, like Mufasa, a father, and despite everything had done at least one miracle; a new born miracle: Nala herself. Scar could choose whichever lioness he liked, but Nala was determined he’d never take the almost from her.

Scar undoubtedly had many faults, but surprisingly, and luckily for Nala, disrespecting a lioness’s wishes was not always one of them. He could have forced himself on her – and many lions would have done so with little compunction and much pleasure - but to some little credit, he had not, though he had not done so graciously. In fact, his banishment of Nala when she refused him was one of the most publically and clearly deliberately humiliating acts of his two year reign. None of the pride could be in any doubt as to who was in charge and what the price of crossing him would be. Nala had learned a painful lesson, but it may not have been the one Scar intended to teach. So for her to have helped Scar to get home alive, to lay close at his side as he slept, to stay alert for danger so as to protect him, might come as a surprise, but then Nala, the almost lioness, was anything but unsurprising, and anything but almost.

* * *

The air had grown sharper and cooler as the storm closed, but it had still not broken. The clouds overhead glowed and flashed, shaking the tense air. Nala, alarmed out of sleep, lifted her forequarters and looked over the still sleeping Scar. He was seemingly untroubled by the weather. She almost wished she too could share his peace: He felt neither the still silent lightning high above, nor did he see the thick sheets of rain folding over the rises to the north. Soon it would be upon them both. They had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. It would take them and cover them. All they could do was lay there no matter what came upon them.

She studied the matted, dry-sand hair of his drop muzzle, punctuated and split by the darkly angled tip of his nose. Through that black-lined mouth, between those blood-browned teeth, so much hate had spilled, now it seemed calm, almost benign. His legs, scratched, the skin exposed and even torn in places, lay quite still. His claws were buried softly in the fur of his paws. She could see he hurt, but was actually thankful the unguent had spared him the worst of the pain. As she looked at his slowly lifting and falling side, she felt sure he moved his head or forelegs. She turned her head; he lay exactly as he had moments before. 

The sky flashed. Nala became aware of a shape huddling a few lengths into the gloom; then came the ear-battering, crashing rumble. She drew to a stand. “Who’s that? Sarabi? Is that you?”

The shape slowly moved closer. Nala eyed it cautiously. Her expression hardening when she saw that it was a hyena. Then sounds: pawfall on dry earth. Looking round, there were more, and movement in the gloom beyond. Not one or two, but six or seven hyena, shuffling and watching, standing and sitting. She didn’t know them, but then there were so many. The closest sat; its head to one side. A voice came from behind Nala: “You’re one of them friends of Sarabi, ain’t ya?”

“No, no,” said another dismissively. The others chattered excitedly. “Yes, yes. She’s that Nala.”

Nala whipped her head round, but she couldn’t tell which was speaking. The first spoke again: “Nah, can’t be. Look at her belly, she ain’t with cub.”

“What?! Of course I’m not.”

“Yeah, but you are Nala.” 

This time Nala saw clearly who spoke, but didn’t recognise him. “What if I am? What do you want anyway? I’ve not got food: there’s nothing for you here.”

A third shadowy voice broke from behind the closest hyenas. “Hey, come on now, let’s give our king and queen a little room.” Nala could not see who it was, but she knew that voice: Shenzi. 

“Queen? But she’s not… she’s not-“

“Nah,” moaned the second male disappointedly. “She’s not.”

Shenzi was clearly moving closer. “Oh really? No little Scars on the way, eh? Really? After everything we’ve heard? Maybe we can’t believe everything Scar says.” With hyenas, intent on their own discussion, on three sides; Nala didn’t know which way to turn. She held her gaze on the second male. With the chill of the air and in the hyenas’ demeanour, the greatest warmth came from Scar’s underfur pressing against her hindlegs.

“Yeah. Shouldn’t that be ‘anything’ he says?”

The nearest hyenas drew back, parting. From the shadows, Shenzi came forward, tipping her head to eye the others in turn. “Hmm.” She came to a stand three lengths ahead of Nala, staring. “Well, just what did your boyfriend say, Nala?”

“Scar’s not my boyfriend!” Nala snarled.

Shenzi sneered back, “No, of course. We did hear you’re his queen. Didn’t we?” The other hyenas chattered in agreement. Shenzi went on, “I suppose I can’t blame you; but I don’t see he’s that much of a catch.”

Nala growled. A heavy drop of rain splattered onto the ground in front of her. 

Shenzi continued, theatrically raising her forepaw to her chin. “Oh, now who does that remind me of? No, no, don’t tell me.”

Nala cut Shenzi with glare. First two drops, then more and more.

“Ah yes, I remember. You were all alone with your first boyfriend, you know the little one.”

“Simba?” 

“Yeah, that runt. Mufasa’s little boy.”

The rain spattered tiny dark craters into the dust. Nala glanced at Scar. She took in a deep breath, and then roared, her eyes closed while the breath held out. As she opened them, her chest heaved in fresh air. The rain fell warm and heavy on her neck and back.

Shenzi stood firm. “Ooo, very frightening I’m sure, but I’m not shaking see? Simba’s daddy ain’t going to leap in and save you this time. Now, you had better run along home. We’ll take him from here.” The other hyenas sniggered. The air flashed. Almost instantly came the thunder, making Nala’s roar just another drop of rain in the storm.

“No! He’s sleeping.”

“After that? Scar, sleeping? With you?”

Still Scar had not moved; his breath was still steady. “Yes – no. Look, do you really want to wake him?” She snarled again. ”Well, do you?” Nala stood firm at Scar’s side. From the distance, over to Pride Rock, another lioness’s roar punched through the rain. 

Shenzi glanced to the distance, her ears pricked, and then she looked to the sky. “Well…” Her voice became tense. “I guess we can wait a little longer.” She turned to the others. “Come on; I guess we should leave these two lovebirds alone together.”

* * *

The soft splatter of rain on dusty earth grew rapidly to a steady patter. Then the clouds, thick and dark above, opened and the patter gave way to splashes into standing water. Nala’s ears stung, and shortly her fur ran through, the water seeping under her, chilling her underfur. Scar’s mane began to slump, exposing the line of his head and neck. Nala pressed hard to him, trying to warm him. His forepaws began to tremble, then became still once more.

The rain eased as quickly as it had started, but it did not stop. Two bedraggled, torpid forms emerged out of the weather. In the sodden darkness, Nala turned her head, sliding it over Scar’s forelegs. She barely recognised them until, a few lengths away, one spoke.

“Nala, are you all right?”

“Yes mother.” Nala felt Scar shift under her. She lifted her head from him a little.

Sarabi slipped forward from Sarafina’s side. “Sorry I had to leave you here, but we had a problem with some hyenas.”

Nala nodded, water dripping from her chin on to Scar. “Yes, that happens.” Scar twitched.

Sarabi sounded concerned. “Nala, is he… is he waking?” 

“’bout time. Though I’d rather he stayed out of it.”

“Saffi! Scar deserves our respect just like any other lion.”

“But he’s not ‘any other lion’ is he, Sarabi? He’s Scar. He twisted the throne from his brother’s still warm claws. He’s run the Pridelands into the ground; this dry, dusty ground. Nothing grows now, nothing. This is the first rain we’ve had in- how long has it been now? He’s had us hunt day and night and hand it all over to him and his stinking hyenas. It’s no wonder none of us have cubs. We couldn’t feed them if we did. We can barely even feed ourselves.”

“Mother! Shut up.”

“Don’t you tell me to-“

Nala growled. 

Sarabi tipped her head and pushed heavily into Sarafina’s side. “Sarafina! Look!”

Confused ground-hinted scents rose up and mingled with the fresh and humid smell of the air. The rain was losing its urgency, falling rather than pelting down.

Sarafina fell silent; watching as Scar’s eyes quivered and then flickered open. Nala pulled back, easing away from Scar. When his head turned heavily towards her, she sprang away, her eyes wide.

Sarabi dropped her head and took a pace forwards. “Scar?” She waited. The only sounds were Nala’s rapid breathing against the steady patter of the rain. “Can you hear me, Scar?” Nala stepped back another silent pace, unable to pull her tense, widened eyes off the lion.

Scar lifted his head, the effort clearly painful. He looked to Sarabi, his right eye dragging, not matching the gaze of his left. Sarabi dropped her head farther; well below the line of her shoulders; and looked straight at him, “You’re safe. We’re nearly home.” Scar just looked on. “Scar? You can hear me, can’t you? We’re going to take care of you. We’re going to get you home. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Nala glared at Sarabi. “Everything’s going to be all right? What do you mean ’all right’?”

Sarafina pushed forward. “Nala, just keep out of this. You’ve done your bit now-“

Sarabi edged her voice with the hint of a growl. “Saffi! Nala! Not now! Both of you just back off and calm down. Scar doesn’t need any of this.”

Scar turned his head to Pride Rock, dropping his chin with the effort. Sarabi rushed to his side. “Come on, Saffi!”

Sarafina shoved Nala aside and slumped herself down at Scar’s side. Nala stood by. “What about me?”

“Told you. You’ve already done more than enough damage.”

“What, Mother? What have I done?”

Sarabi flicked her tail over Scar’s back, catching Sarafina sharply on the hindquarters. Sarafina lay stiffly silent. Scar rolled slightly into her.

“You’ve done just fine, Nala. Now, there’s one more thing I need you to do. Just one more thing.”

Sarafina turned her ears away from her daughter. 

“Yes, Sarabi. What is it?”

“He’ll be hungry… and thirsty. You too, I expect.”

“Well…”

“We’ll get him to the waterhole. You go and find something to eat.”

“I… I can get a party together and-“

“No, Nala, just you. We don’t want the whole pride in on this yet. You understand?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Good. Now go. Meet us by the waterhole. If we’re not there an hour after sunrise, we’ll still be here, or at Pride Rock. You got that?”

“Yes, Sarabi.”

Nala turned, paused a moment, then walked off into the gloom. The prospect of hunting alone at night in wet conditions would have weighed heavily on most lionesses in the pride. Nala though, whether her mother realised it or not, was not ‘most lionesses’. She knew she had to hunt something she could catch on her own and lift or drag, possibly for many hundreds of lengths, to the waterhole.

Nala’s pads grew heavier and colder with each step, grit pushing up between her toes and grinding into her claws. As she padded up a rise, she paused and looked back. Sarabi and her mother had Scar up, standing unsteadily between them. Sarafina pulled away a little, Scar immediately falling over on to her. The two would have to get Scar to the waterhole, yet it looked as though he could barely even stand. Nala knew he could walk; she had seen him walk, and walk far. She knew that, while dawn was surely close, she didn’t need to rush. She had time to hunt carefully, and hunt alone; just as she liked it.

Strong pride lionesses such as her mother, Sarafina, generally preferred large prey: wildebeest, zebra, hartebeest, gemsbok, kudu and the like. They had many mouths to feed, including voracious males and cubs. They also had the support of each other, hunting in groups, banding up to make heavy takedowns, several times the weight of a lioness, less hazardous. Even then, hunting was a dangerous and often unrewarding business. Three out of every four attempted hunts, or more, lead to nothing; sometimes, to much worse.

Nala took to the life of a lone lioness well enough. While strong and supple, she lacked some of her mother’s bulk and power; power that made Sarafina a big-prey specialist. On her own, Nala hunted smaller prey; animals she could take down, and eat, unaided: the smaller antelope, gazelle mainly, dik-dik even, and the favoured standby of many lone males; the occasional warthog. These animals tended to roam in smaller herds, family groups, or even individually, and were most often found away from, and on the edge of the big herds. Nala knew where to find them – narrower, more secluded valleys were often good places – and how to catch them. It drew her into competition with some leopards, but that was a price she knew she had the strength to afford.

When Scar had banished Nala from the pride, she had at first thought it would be difficult to keep out of his way, and that of the other lionesses. She wanted to stay as close as she could, keeping in touch with the pride wherever possible, but, with her changed hunting pattern, she found their paths crossed rarely.

Nala turned away from her mother, Sarabi, and the struggling Scar. She knew where to go to catch just the sort of small prey she needed now; something she could take down alone and carry far. Unlike many others of the pride, she knew exactly how to do that, like the almost lioness she was. By banishing her, Scar had unintentionally given her just what she needed to keep him alive.


	7. What's Love Got to Do with It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nala goes hunting to feed Scar.

**_What's Love Got to Do with It?_ **

The pride had no name for the place Nala chose to hunt. It was a non-descript valley – once a tributary of the ancient Nonda. Nala called it Moon Silver Valley for the way the moonlight played over its slopes. Too small and confined for the teeming herds, it was only smaller, more agile prey that grazed its low, tight grasses. Tree and brush-less, it offered precious little cover for predators, save for a few isolated ridges and rises on the lower slopes.

… _“You’re one of them friends of Sarabi, ain’t ya?”_

Lionesses thought of most other animals as “prey” – big prey, fast prey, dangerous prey, tasty prey and inedible prey. They ranked them by size, taste and ease of hunting. Every lioness had their favourite. Nala knew what she was after – impala – and they were going to get it. Smaller, that meant easy enough to drag, but fast, agile and alert, making hunting more about slink and sprint than stalk and strike. With few mouths to feed, the effort of their hunting was rewarding; the fine-grained meat having a comparatively delicate taste. They also had less blood to be washed off later. Larger prides took them down if the opportunity presented, or need demanded, but they were generally not prey of choice. 

… _“What?! Of course I’m not.”_

… _“Yeah, but you are Nala.”_

The moon had set; the storms past leaving only occasional flashes in the distant sky and a thin layer of cloying but fast drying mud over loose, gritty sand. Nala padded over a starlit ridge and descended into the valley. Once below the ridge-line she stopped and sank down to scan the valley. It was beautiful as always, but empty and quiet. In the stillness she wondered why she was doing this. To feed a power-mad tyrant who’d banished her for daring to refuse him? No, Scar wasn’t all bad, and he had understood what ‘no’ meant. Even if he had killed his own brother to take the pride, it didn’t mean he deserved to starve to death. That sort of thing happened in some prides; males did that stuff, and anyway, it wasn’t as if he had killed her mate.

… _“Maybe we can’t believe everything Scar says.”_

Mufasa’s pride, Scar’s pride, Sarabi’s pride even, the Nonda, was small compared to many. It had only eight or nine lionesses – counting was no lion’s strong point. As in all prides, many of the lionesses were close relations: daughters, sisters, parents, grandparents, cousins, nieces and aunts. In contrast, the Nonda had only ever had one pride male, and just a few cubs. Nala, while hardly a cub in any other sense, was sometimes, and much to her annoyance, treated like one.

… _“Ooo, very frightening I’m sure, but I’m not shaking see? Simba’s daddy ain’t going to leap in and save you this time. Now, you had better run along home.”_

It could be forgiven for thinking that in such a small, tight-knit group, that everyone would know everything about everyone. However, that was rarely the case in any pride, no matter how much the lionesses would insist it was so. 

Regarding practical matters, it was true enough. Every lioness knew who the patient stalkers were and who liked to take the flank – Sarabi’s mother, Narala, was resolutely a left-flanker; who had the power for the first strike and who would be best left to go long in the event the prey got wind of the point and broke early. Every lioness had secrets; they needed them to keep sane. They were what differentiated one lioness from another. They were the rungs on which the ladder of pride hierarchy was ascended.

… _“…one of them friends of Sarabi.”_

Sarafina was the pride’s undisputed master hunter, but she could not lead the pride. It wasn’t that she had once been an outsider, that wasn’t unusual. It was all that Sarabi and she had shared as friends that meant that, barring some terrible accident, Sarafina would probably have had to use force to take the pride. Even then she’d risk splitting the pride in the taking.

With Narala’s recent death, there was no one left that knew for sure who Sarabi’s father had been, not even Sarabi herself. She certainly had never met him.

… _“Hey, come on now, let’s give our king and queen a little room.”_

Mating was the one thing over which lionesses, and lions, could expect any privacy. One awkward fact was that in all prides there were never enough males to go round. For any lioness to have an exclusive claim on a lion was practically unheard of. Who lionesses chose to father their cubs was up to them. 

… _“Nah, can’t be. Look at her belly, she ain’t with cub.”_

In prides where there was more than one male – often brothers and occasionally fathers and sons –the males made a big song and dance, not to mention lots of noise, about their rights to choose, often resulting in fights over who would mate… first. While only occasionally fatal, these fights often left more than pride broken.

… _“Hmm. Well, just what did your boyfriend say, Nala?”_

The reality was that the females had most of the power. As they came into season they would offer themselves to whomever they felt would be the best father for their cubs. Their reasons for their choices were not always obvious, or even rational. Lions came and went and were often little involved in the day to day upbringing of the cubs they sired.

A lioness in full season was a daunting and exhausting prospect for any male, no matter how strong and fit they were. It was by no means unknown for another male, even an outsider not with any pride – to accompany a lioness to the end of her season. Litters could well be of cubs from more than one father. Despite the exhaustion, hardship, and unalloyed joy, the allure and company of a willing lioness was something few males could resist, even if for just a few fleeting hours. 

… _“No, of course. We did hear you’re his queen. Didn’t we?”_

This made Scar’s approach to Nala all the more puzzling. She had indeed come in to season, but that had passed weeks before, with her not offering herself to any lion. She perhaps might have done had ‘any lion’ not meant Scar. She kept any desires she may have had, her secrets, even, or perhaps especially, from her mother.

… _“I suppose I can’t blame you; but I don’t see he’s that much of a catch.”_

Scar had oddly tried to force himself on her out of season. Almost every male old enough to show a mane knew that was most likely going to end in deep claw wounds all over their head and forequarters. When a lioness said ‘no’ it meant, ‘I’ll kill you if you even as much as sniff me!’ Maybe Scar had done it to test his power, or indeed, to press it. Did he do it to show he could, to demonstrate his ownership and control of Nala? Why had he not tried his luck with Sarabi, or Sarafina, who had an arguably undeserved reputation for rarely saying no? Was it that Nala had always been expected to become the next Pridelands queen, and that as Scar was the ‘next’ Pridelands king, she ‘naturally’ belonged to, and was beholden to him? Why, evidently, had he boasted to the hyenas that he had had Nala, when the evidence – cubs – would clearly not come? No one knew. Well, Scar did, but he was hardly likely to tell anyone now. It was still far from certain that he’d ever say anything to anyone again. 

… _“Oh really? No little Scars on the way, eh?”_

~oOOo~

Darker - still no prey. Nala rose, stretching fully before setting off down slope in full view of the valley. She paused with her forepaws on one of the few covering ridges, yawned, looked hopefully to the valley head, and then settled down to become another knoll on the valley side.

Nala didn’t have to wait long before four or five hornless antelope, somewhat larger than gazelle, coloured to melt into the driest grasslands – impala – meandered into the valley. The lead stopped and, head up and ears pricked, looked up the valley for any signs of danger. The others glanced around casually, and then brushed past the lead confidently. They knew that leopards generally hunted by day and that hyena and lion rarely came to the valley. Though there was that one, that someone had said they saw once, but that was just after dawn. Despite that, that one lioness watched them keenly. 

… _“I’ve not got food: there’s nothing for you here.”_

To most lionesses, one impala looks very much like any other, but Nala sized them up carefully, looking to see which was most alert, and which might not see her until it was too late. All were healthy, young adult females, un-horned, without calves -no easy kill, but at least they were slowly heading up the valley. Nala waited, letting them close to her, letting them walk into her trap. However, they appeared to be in no hurry; grazing the grass, heads low, only occasionally looking up to check for trouble they knew could not be there. 

… _“Scar, sleeping? With you?”_

All the time they were getting closer, all the time the gritty mud hardening uncomfortably between Nala’s toes and around her pads and claws. She hoped the group would drop their guard completely and thin as they approached so that she might pick off a back-marker, but they stayed tightly together.

… _“Scar’s not my boyfriend!”_

At least the slope favoured Nala; the group steadily worked their way up the valley toward her. As long as they were moving, Nala knew she had a chance. If they stopped, stock still, then they had seen, smelt or heard her. It would only be a few tense seconds before they turned, leaping away. In those seconds she had to be up and closing on them. If she gave them time to accelerate, they would outrun her. She had to be on them, leaping up to get a claw-extended forepaw on them, or to knock them down, within ten or fifteen lengths, any further and they’d be certain to get away.

… _“Scar, sleeping? With you?”_

Nala tensed her shoulders. She edged forwards, belly to the ground. Five impala with no idea what awaits them graze closer. Nala tightened her forelegs, stretching the skin over her shoulders tight. 

… _“…not my boyfriend!”_

The grass was fresher now after the rain: long tufts green. Close enough. No, not quite. Yes, they are. Which? Strain forwards, just lift belly off the ground. There, that one. 

… _“…not my boyfriend!”_

Now!

An impala in the middle of the group widened her eyes. She froze, terror struck. No time, just moments that stretched like eternity. Twist away – slow, too slow. Don’t look back. Run! Leap! Land, run. Leap again. Breath - the scent of death. Pounding behind. Run, run, run.

Nala sprang and shot forward. The impala stood for a moment, then ripped and tore itself away. Nala landed her first forepaw falls painfully. Her toes not closing, splayed apart, held apart by something hard, gritty, and unyielding. She lurched forward, her near forepaw almost turning under her, pain spearing up her leg. The gap widened, the prey scattered, arcing high into the air, crossing, kicking - confusing.

… _“Scar, sleeping? With you?”_

They were gone, so close, but running, getting away. Nala slowed, breathing hard after less than twenty lengths. So close, but now so far. She stumbled to a halt. Her breath heavy in the slightly moist air. Yes, that was it, the moist air. She led her forepaw up and turned her head to look at it. The mud had hardened, that was it. That was what had happened.

… _“…not my boyfriend!”_

Nala limped back to the ridge and lay down. She kept her forelegs out in front of her, and began to noisily lick and suck at them, trying to clean the mud from between her toes. 

… _“…my boyfriend!”_

As the sky began to lighten, just before dawn, she drifted into light, fitful sleep.

Mothers always told their daughters to never give their heart to a lion; not that it did much good. Lionesses that did often doomed themselves to grief and heartbreak. Only a few ever could even afford to dream of such deep attachments. Just as it was for some lions to sire cubs on many lionesses, it was the lot of most lionesses to take what short days of affection came their way. It was said that some lionesses that loved, all but lost their minds to grief when it ended, and end it always did, often suddenly and bloodily. Sarabi, it now seemed, was one of those lionesses. Nala was determined not to become the next. 

… _“Ah yes, I remember. You were all alone with your first boyfriend, you know the little one.”_

Love, like a master huntress, would never willingly let go once it had its claws in its prey. Love though, was playing maybe its cruellest trick on Nala. A trick that was just a glimmer of faint hope; a moment of distraction, an impossible dream. The truth was that she had no way of knowing what he even looked like. She was in love with a distant memory, a ghost: her own lost past. At least her ghost might be of love yet to come.

“Psst, Nala?”

“Shush Simba! What do you want? Can’t you see I’m trying to-” Nala snapped her head round. “… Hunt… here?” Her ears dropped. She let her shoulders slump down, the tension dissipating in a shiver down her back and flanks.

“Hunt? Hunt what? I see no prey, not much of anything really. And you call me ‘eccentric’!”

“Rafiki! You could get yourself killed sneaking up like that!”

“I’m still here; haven’t got me yet. You still like Simba don’t you?”

“It… shows?”

“More than those dark patches behind your ears.”

“What?” Nala hurriedly licked a forepaw and tried to wash it off, dropping and turning her head with each stroke.

“No, no. It won’t come off, it’s part of you. Can’t hide it.” 

Nala abandoned her attempted washing with her forepaw at her neck. She let it drop slowly, lifting her head in an attempt to look as if nothing had happened.

“Nala, have you ever been to the mountains?”

“No!” Nala turned her head to face Rafiki. “You know I’ve never been off the Pridelands.”

“Ah yes… Well, up there are three mountains all close together.”

“Mountains? What are you on about?”

“Yes, mountains, reaching up to the sun. All three high, but one is just a little lower. The way up is rough in places, but easy to follow. Everyone’s welcome up there. The view from the top is great, but often shrouded in clouds. Be sure Nala, it’s still a mountain. No mountain is easy to climb.”

“Rafiki, why would anyone want to climb a mountain? Why are you bothering me, ruining my hunt?”

“Nala! Why do you want to hunt eh? Because- because they want to get to the top- because it’s there, because it’s not just a mountain, because…”

“OK, OK I get it…. So there’s this mountain.”

“No!” Rafiki shook his head stiffly. “Lions! Give me…” He paused, breathing deeply, closed his eyes, and then brought his hands together in front of his nose before lowering them deliberately down his chest. “Three Mountains; when they get to the top, they can see-“

“-When it’s not cloudy.”

“Yes, Nala, when it’s not cloudy-“

“- Or dark – you can’t see far when it’s dark.”

“Yes, yes, or dark.” Rafiki paused. After a few moments he nodded and went on, “Everyone that goes up the mountain can see the highest peak not far off. It’s always above the clouds, you can see for ever up there, but it’s got no easy way up. It’s only been climbed once; it’s shrugged off everyone else that’s tried.”

“Rafiki, is there a point to this? I’m kinda hunting here.”

“Pbbt! Look, look! Still no prey. Where are they, eh?”

Nala shook her head.

“But there’s still one other peak, almost as high: jagged and rough and mysterious. No one’s ever climbed it, no one. No one knows the way up, or even if there is a way. No one knows what the view is like from up there: beautiful, magnificent, wonderful even, but no one’s seen it. Who will be first, maybe the only one, to climb it?”  
“No lion, that’s for sure; if they have any sense.”

“Don’t be so sure. You never know.”

“Rafiki-“

“It’ll take someone determined – very special - but one day someone will conquer that mountain, stand on the top, exhausted but triumphant, and see that view and say ‘Wow! Isn’t this great?’”

“Right…” Nala fixed Rafiki with a look that would have shot terror into most prey. “Don’t move.”

Rafiki sat, his eyes darting from side to side, without moving his head. He shrunk a little further down, saying nothing.

Nala spoke quietly, annunciating precisely. “Don’t move, and don’t say another word.”

Rafiki sat stiffly. Nala inched forward momentarily, held still, and then moving again, ears forward, looking intently past Rafiki, moving silently to his side. The scent, heat, and powerful presence of Nala were overwhelming. Rafiki felt her side pressing on him as she breathed, and her quickening heartbeat through the ground.

When she burst up he felt it as a shaking of the ground and a rush of hot fur tearing over his side. He didn’t turn to watch. It didn’t take long. He knew that the terrifying privilege of standing intimately close to such animals had a price, a price that he was thankful an impala had to pay. Having no desire to see it torn apart, he slipped away, leaving Nala to finish her terrible business alone.


	8. Our Waterhole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nala takes her kill back to the waterhole. Tension mounts as Nala’s kill feeds more than expected when the lionesses encounter the hyenas.

**_Our Waterhole_ **

Nala was scarcely out of Moonsilver valley, a deathly-limp adult female impala dragging awkwardly at her offside, when dawn flooded over her. She had no time to stand and watch as the sky slid from deepest blue to gold, and none to listen as all around her, the air filled with birdcalls. No one saw her coat, radiant in the dawn light; felt the heat of her exertion; nor heard her snatched gasps for breath as she pressed on into the sunrise. She had to reach the still distant waterhole before the birds settled, and the heat and her hunger built, making dragging the impala impossible. Sarabi had told her to be there. Nala was determined she wasn't going to be late.

* * *

Nala caught her breath, and looked about. All around, the ground, not yet shimmering in the early morning heat, was greening. The earth had a give: a softness she had all but forgotten. The deep cracks in the sandy soil, which had only a few days before been breaking up in hardened plates, had almost closed. The cool air had an earthy freshness. She lifted a forepaw and, turning it over, licked and sucked at the earth between her toes. She expected it to be caked on, gritty and hard, instead it came away easily. She flicked it out with her tongue and then licked again, feeling only her own travel-hardened pads, cracked claws and short wiry fur.

Looking down to the kill, she batted its head on to its side with her now clean paw. "What are you looking at? Where did you come from anyway? I could have waited all day for you, but no, when Rafiki shows up, there you are, right behind him." She stooped down, to pick up her kill between her teeth. "Now Mother'll see I'm not a cub. You'll show her I can hunt. She never lets me lead. I'm just 'Nala'. I've always run with the lionesses. Now they can run with me."

The impala's head drooped along its stiffening forelegs as Nala lifted it. One hind leg, the flesh slashed below the hip to the broken bone, dragged well out to Nala's offside. "You're not going to feed the pride though, are you? How many of your friends have to die to feed all those stupid—" She knew what she wanted to say, but even alone she kept it in. Even grass had ears.

Ahead was one last rise. Over, lay the waterhole; what was left of it. Claimed and controlled by the hyena horde, it had dwindled to little more than a few slime-ridden puddles. No water meant no prey. With no food, how long could the Pridelands hold onto the pride? Clearly, Scar had no idea of what to do about the drought. A good king would have known. Mufasa would have. He would not have let the hyenas into the Pridelands, and never let them take over the waterhole: the one place to which all had a right.

The palms that, in Mufasa's time, had majestically lined the approach had long since faded and browned. One lay crashed across the path, near the crest of the rise. As she reached it, Nala dropped her kill close to the upturned rootstock, and then leapt over the trunk. Landing, she stopped smartly, turned and crept back on her underfur, pushing under the rough, skin-ripping, fibrous trunk. It pulled at her back painfully. Nala realised that had she caught a male, its horns might have jammed it tight. As it was, she was just able, with tentatively flailing, outstretched-clawed forepaw, to snag the impala's neck.

Pushing back with her free foreleg; Nala pulled the kill under the tree. Then its broken hind leg caught fast at the knee. Nala slunk down and crunched her teeth deep into its neck. She drew her hindquarters up, bringing her hindpaws forward under her. She took two, as deep breaths as the kill's neck in her mouth allowed. She extended her hind claws into the sandy ground, and putting all her strength into her hindquarters, rolled herself up and back. The kill held fast. Nala closed her eyes and pressed harder, recoiling when the torn flesh around the already broken bone, gave suddenly. Nala tumbled backwards, most of the kill springing free after her.

Nala kicked out wildly at the kill. "Get off me!" It slid off her belly, onto the ground at her hindpaws.

Nala picked herself up, shook the sand out from her fur, and panting, gathered up her kill. Having no means of carrying the parted hindleg, she left it wedged under the tree. "It's your fault. You shouldn't just leave bits lying around." She set off out into the open, a trail of fresh blood dripping from her kill.

Nala rarely went to the waterhole or the Nonda to drink. Like most lionesses, she got the water she needed from the fresh meat and blood of her prey. In the depths of the drought, desperation had forced her to drink, lapping at the foul water then looking up anxiously, barely raising her head. Her fear was not of being preyed upon or hunted; it was the hyenas she was wary of. They seemed to think they should be the ones to decide who drank at the waterhole. Any lioness could handle one or two, but more meant trouble.

Hyena trouble… it had all started with hyena trouble, and still it went on. Zazu would not be there this time, flapping impatiently, swooping down to remind of the love laid out on the path ahead. There was no path ahead anymore. It could so easily have all ended that day had it not been for the king saving… no, Mufasa saving his son - and… where was Scar? Where was he? Not saving his daughter. What sort of father leaves his own cub to the hyenas? No, he hadn't been there.

Where was he when Nala lay sick and shivering, hunched up tight at her mother's side; Rafiki unable to heal her? Had Scar feared for his daughter's life? No, he was playing at king, self-importantly welcoming some kudu new to the Pridelands. Where was he when Nala walked out on her first hunt, trembling with fear and pride beside her mother? Was he there when she brought down her first kill? What did he say? "That's good, now the others won't have to carry you." Who was doing the carrying now?

Scar had never been a father to Nala. He had never cared, but why should he? Nala had been just another mouth to feed for too long, and later, once she could hunt, and he was king, she had become just- just a lioness to use and take as a trophy.

It could have been so different, had Simba still been there. But Simba and Nala? Mufasa's son and Scar's daughter together just as Zazu had said; how could that ever have happened? How was that any better than Scar wanting his own daughter as his queen?

Nala stopped, and lowered her kill to the ground beneath her, its remaining hind hoof slapping against her flank. Unless… Sarabi had said that Scar was not her father. If not, then who? Somewhere out there, there was a father whose tail Nala had never played with, and a back she had never clambered over. A mane she had never snuggled into, and forepaws she had never been swatted away distractedly by. Her mother knew, and Sarabi too… and they had never told Nala. There must have been a very good reason for that, surely?

Nala left the kill on the ground and took the few paces to the top of the rise. She smelled the waterhole - warm mudded moisture tainted by hints of hyena - on the breeze from the other side of the rise. Standing on the ridge, she saw the water - more of it than she remembered - reaching almost to the wind-smoothed standing rocks to the right of the near bank. On the farther side, somewhat over to the left, were three unmistakeably leonine forms: two standing, the darker, Sarabi, the other Sarafina, and one lying at the water's edge, head surrounded by black: Scar.

Nala watched for a few moments as Sarabi lay down, hind first, then lowering her forequarters gently. A movement off to the far left caught Nala's eye. She looked over, barely turning her head. Three patchy-dark furred forms, high at the fore – hyena – were walking between scattered acacias toward the waterhole: stopping, glancing excitedly at each other, shaking their heads, moving on again. In the drought, Scar had let the hyenas watch over the waterhole. They now controlled who drank, and who went thirsty. While Nala could not make out whom these hyena might be, she knew they meant trouble. They must let Scar drink, surely; but what about lionesses?

Nala sprang back to her kill, picked it up, and hurriedly dragged it over the rise, and on down toward the waterhole.

* * *

Reaching the edge of the water, Nala continued straight on, splashing and dragging the kill through the shallow water over the still hard-baked, sun-cracked mud. Sarafina looked up, her ears tense. Nala slowed; the soaked kill slipping and dragging through the softer mud at the middle of the waterhole.

Sarafina ran out to meet her. "Where have you been? Sarabi asks you to do this one thing: just be there by dawn, but no, you couldn't do that, could you?"

Nala halted, all but exhausted. "But Mother-"

"Don't you dare 'but mother' me! Go on, drop it." Sarafina snatched the carcass from Nala before she could let go, dragging it from her mouth. "Well, what was it this time, mooning over that damned Simba again? You'd better stop that nonsense. Now see here my girl, he's gone! Get it? He's dead! Either that or he's lost an eye and an ear, and has already fathered twenty cubs on ten lionesses."

"Not now Sarafina!" Sarabi breathed out heavily, her shoulders sagging. "Please, not now. I said an hour after dawn, and we're still here."

Sarafina closed her eyes, shook her head and began dragging the carcass back toward Scar. Through the misty haze rising from the water, Nala noticed a blood-pinked patch on Sarabi's neck.

Sarabi sounded strained. "We can't go on with you two at each other's throats like this. Please, we have to work together. We have to be strong. We have to be one."

And another on her foreleg; partially cleaned off, but definitely blood. Someone had hurt Sarabi. Scar? Maybe, but lying a few lengths away at the water's edge, he seemed incapable of moving. Hyenas? Maybe, or maybe just a scratch or two from rough, thorny bush.

A distant echo of a memory floated over the waterhole to Nala. Do this one thing… Of a time when everything was better. Be there by dawn… When life was everywhere. Stop that nonsense... When there was hope. See here my girl… The colours of the memory: wet leaf, azure, crimson, acacia flower, and gold; faded to rain-drab grey. "What happened, Sarabi? Are you hurt? Was it those hyena?"

Sarabi shook her head. "Don't worry." She paused, breathing heavily. "It's OK now. I'm fine. Nothing happened."

"Damn him! See? He can't even smell fresh meat right in front of him." Sarafina shook her head and then looked toward Nala, her eyes narrowing. "What hyena?"

"Three, they're coming here. I didn't get a good look at them."

"Three you say? It's them. 'Course it is. Who else goes around in threes? You led them here."

"No I didn't, mother! They were coming here anyway. I do everything you ask, take down a kill for you and Scar, don't even take any myself and what do you do? A simple 'thank you' would be something."

"Didn't take any? They're not the only ones to go around in threes, apparently. Just how many three-legged impala do you-"

"Saffi! Please, no more. Not now." Sarabi seemed agitated, distraught even. "Just stop this, both of you. Please!"

Sarafina blinked and sighed, dropping her shoulders. "Nala, how far away are they?"

"Not far. They'll be here soon."

"So, what do we do now, Sarabi?"

"Stay here. They're only three hyena and we have every right to be at our waterhole. Let's get into that kill. Nothing scares them more than well-blooded teeth, and they can hardly begrudge their own 'leader' eating and drinking."

Sarafina brightened up, snapping up her head and peaking her ears. "Now that's more like it! Go on Nala: I suppose it's your kill; you're in first."

Shaking her head, Nala turned. Scar lay by the water's edge, his tail stretched out into the shallows. He looked directly at the kill, drops of saliva running down over his heavily bearded chin. Nala crouched down, her head at the kill's belly. Thrusting forwards, she knocked the gaping hind leg stump out of the way and bit down on the patch of thinly white furred skin of the kill's other thigh. She pulled her head back, ripping open the skin and taking a mouthful of muscle from the leg. She took the still warm meat; fur, skin and flesh; into her mouth with a backwards snap of her head.

Sarabi joined her, taking meat from the fore-flanks and shoulders. She tried offering some to Scar, but he didn't seem to know what to do with it, dropping it between his forelegs. With Nala hurriedly taking her fill, and Sarafina standing guard to one side, waiting for the hyenas, Sarabi pulled off a smaller piece of meat, offering it to Scar with it hanging between her front teeth. He tilted his head and tried to take it. Sarabi leant forward, pressing her muzzle to his. When she pulled away, Scar had the meat in his mouth. He swallowed it whole.

The air grew heavy in the morning sun. Nala looked up from the kill. Shimmering through the haze rising over the waterhole, three dark forms appeared. They closed for a few seconds, and then stopped. Two sat, the third stood, its large, angular ears dark against the sun.

Sarafina stepped forward a pace, thrashing her tail. "They're here."

Nala knew it could only be a matter of time before the hyenas showed up. She had hoped that it wouldn't be this soon. Scar had barely eaten anything. She hoped he had already drunk.

"Well, Sarabi, shall I run them off?"

"No Saffi. Who is it?" Sarabi rose and stiffly moved over to Sarafina.

"Who do you damn well think it is? It's Shenzi, Banzai and what's-his-face… you know, Ed."

Sarabi peered into the haze. "Sure?"

"I've got eyes! Of course I'm sure."

"Then let them get closer. I need to talk to them."

"You'd better know what you're doing, because they're coming."

Nala got up, standing by the remains of her kill, her belly heavy with meat. The hyenas closed to about ten lengths then split up, circling round. Sarabi and Sarafina watched Shenzi and Banzai while Nala tracked Ed.

"So Banzai, what's this eh? Lionesses at our waterhole?"

"Yeah Shenzi, and with food! See, they've finally brought us breakfast."

Sarafina called out to them, "It's not for you. It's for Scar! You're not getting any!"

"For Scar? You got him there? I reckon he ain't eating anything no more."

Nala looked to her side. Scar was nudging the kill with his nose. "Yeah, we got him, and he's eating, so you'd better back off!"

"Banzai? Can you see him? Is he?"

"Yeah Shenzi. He is, sorta."

Shenzi called out through the haze. "Hey Scar! You feeling all right?"

Sarabi stepped forward. "Scar's had an accident. He won't answer you."

"Accident? What kind of accident?"

"He fell from the top of the cliffs into the gorge, hit his head badly. He's lucky to be alive."

"Yeah? But your crazy monkey can do something about it, right?"

Sarabi paused, and sighed. "He can't do much. Scar needs time, maybe lots, to recover. Until he's well, I've got to keep the Pridelands going."

Banzai stopped, staring at Sarabi. "What? You mean you're going to be king?"

"No. I'm going to look after the Pridelands until Scar's better."

"But what about us? You're still going to hunt, right?"

Ed nodded.

Sarabi stepped forward again. Sarafina followed. Sarabi shook her head, saying quietly, "No, stay back," and then called to Shenzi, "Of course, some things will have to change."

"You mean like the old way?"

"Like when Mufasa was king, yes."

Sarafina thrashed her tail again, the hair on her back rising. "Sarabi, what do you think you're doing? No way are they going for that!" Sarabi ignored her.

Banzai lifted and pointed a forepaw. "That old way? I only just got used to the new old way."

"We have to look after Scar. We can't do everything. We've all got to work together for the good of the Pridelands."

"What's with that 'pride lands' thing? You may call it that, but we call it-"

Shenzi cut across Banzai. "So, I'm kinda just guessing here, but you mean you want us to get our own food. Like that old way?"

Sarabi lifted her head, brought her ears fully forward, and looked straight at Shenzi. "We lionesses can't hunt for you as well as look after Scar."

"You think we're going to just stand here and take that?"

Sarafina stepped forward, quietly saying, "Damn you Sarabi, you're going to get us all killed." Reaching Sarabi's side, she called out, "Yeah. There are three of us, and only three of you. Do you really think you'd stand a chance?"

Ed shook his head. Shenzi and Banzai stared at him.

"Hey, there's no need for a fight! We're down with that. Ain't we, Banzai?"

"Without a fight? Oh – yeah, I reckon without a fight."

Looking at each other and then to their side, Shenzi and Banzai said together, "Ed?"

Nala, even from a distance, clearly saw Shenzi's high shoulders drop a little as Ed nodded enthusiastically.

"Good," said Sarabi. "Then we all understand one another."

"So, what about our breakfast? You've drunk from our waterhole. You owe us."

Nala's heart fell for a moment: their waterhole. Then she remembered. "There's a leg of impala just over that rise, trapped under a fallen tree. Even you can't miss it." She nodded to the far bank of the waterhole. "Just look for blood."

Maybe they would let their stomachs rule their heads – they normally did. Shenzi turned away, but Banzai stood for a moment. "Hey, 'bout this 'accident'? How do we know you didn't push him off?"

"Know? You don't know. Just like I'll never know how Mufasa died…" Nala could sense the strain in Sarabi's voice. "And I'll never know what happened to my son."

Sarafina could clearly sense it too. She called to the hyenas: "So, are you sure you're with us?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but that leg had better be there."

Banzai got up and walked over to Shenzi. Ed joined them and together they began to walk off toward the end of the waterhole. Banzai shouted after the lionesses, "You ain't got the cojones-"

Shenzi elbowed him sharply with a foreleg.

"Err, it's cool with my homies if you wanna be King, err, Queen!"

"Until he's well enough to rule in person, Sarabi's the one you have to listen to. You got that?"

"Yes, we 'got it'. Haven't we Banzai?"

"Sure, and yeah, we know what happened. Scar set it up. He used Simba to lure Mufasa to the gorge. Then he set off the stampede to kill them both!"

Sarabi surged forward. Sarafina growled after her, "Forget it! They're only trying to wind you up." Sarabi slowed and stopped, dropping her head. She turned back and joined Nala and Sarafina at the kill.

* * *

When they had finished, Sarabi tried to get Scar up, but the trip to the waterhole, eating and the hyena encounter appeared to have exhausted him. She urged him up: "Come on, get up! It's time to go home." Scar shook his head. "Please, it's not far; just over there." Scar dropped his head to the ground. Sarabi lay down beside him. "You two go on. I'll stay with him."

Nala was not looking forward to the trek back to Pride Rock with a full belly. "No, Sarabi, you can't keep doing this. You said we have to be one, remember? I'll stay."

Sarafina stood impatiently. "Nala, are we going, or hanging around here all day?" She turned away, not waiting for an answer.

"Just once more," Sarabi said quietly to Nala. "One more day, then we'll be home. I'll find Scar some shade when he wakes. And anyway, wasn't there something you wanted to ask your mother? About Scar?"

"Ask mother? … oh, you mean that, don't you?"

"Ask her; for me."

When the haze lifted, all that was left of the impala was a mess of disarticulated bones and a wide blood-stained patch of sand.


End file.
